Blackwell Manor
by ClaudiaRain
Summary: 4 days. 3 nights. 1 pretend murder to solve. What could go wrong during Granger's latest training exercise? Quite a lot, actually, and that was before they became convinced the house was trying to kill them.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** If this site allowed, I'd have tacked on almost every genre label: friendship/mystery/supernatural/drama/adventure…you get the point.

This isn't related to any of my other stories. It's primarily **Callen/Nell** with the rest of the team ( **Deeks/Kensi** background) thrown in, and if it needs to be said, I own nothing except my own ideas.

 **XXXXXX**

Nell pushed her sunglasses up on her head and surveyed the house in front of her. Actually, the word 'house' didn't do it justice – it was a mansion, and a sprawling one at that. It spread out further in back than she could see from the driveway, and though it was undeniably grand, the years had taken their toll and it was a bit rundown. It could have used new paint and a better landscaper. Those issues weren't as concerning as the fact that the bright October sun overhead did little to dispel the dark, foreboding atmosphere that clung to the building like a shadow. She wasn't superstitious by any means, nor did she believe in anything paranormal (not really…), and yet the idea of stepping foot in the place gave her a moment's pause.

She shouldn't have been worried since she spotted cars belonging to Eric and Granger in the driveway. She could only guess they were inside and (presumably) still alive. Though if they weren't, it wasn't like they could call and warn her…

Callen stood next to her doing his own assessment of Blackwell Manor. He shot her a sideways glance and it matched every thought she'd had in the thirty seconds since she'd gotten out of the car.

"It's…" she faltered, trying to think of the least sinister description possible.

" _Something_ ," he finished, somewhat in dismay. He hadn't come across many places more impressive (or ominous) than this one. He glanced down at the pamphlet he held. The mansion had been built in 1915 by Thomas Blackwell and he'd lived there with his family until his untimely (and violent) murder 8 years later. It had gone through a variety of owners in the decades since, and had been plagued by rumors of hauntings for equally as long. Now it was a hotel which offered occasional murder mystery packages that were (as the informational pamphlet excitedly announced) 'based on the original murder!'

"According to this," Nell read, "it was originally a 15-room mansion and subsequent owners have added on over the years. It's now over 25 rooms and has 10 bedrooms which can accommodate up to 30 overnight guests. They plan to renovate the third floor to increase maximum capacity to 50."

Their team would be the only ones there for the weekend and they'd also be the first to experience a 'revamped' version of the house's original murder mystery package. Nell didn't know whether to feel relieved or unnerved by the lack of other guests.

"Blackwell Manor…how original." Callen used his pamphlet to shield his eyes as he examined the top floors. "Was the name Blackwell Murder House already taken?"

"It's not that bad," Nell hedged. Because yes, yes it was.

"Need I remind you that a person was actually murdered here?"

"Almost a century ago," she tried to dismiss him. "It's not the house's fault – which only needs a little work, by the way."

His skeptical look told her he didn't necessarily agree. He couldn't deny that the house was magnificent, but the outside made him wonder about the state of the interior. He started pointing out issues as he spoke: "The hedges in front haven't been trimmed in weeks; you can barely see in the first story windows. The paint is chipping and the whole outside could stand to be power-washed. The railing on the front steps is falling apart. And see the porch that wraps around the side? What if the baseboards are rotten? One wrong step and bam!" he clapped loudly, causing her to jump, "instant death, Nell."

"Twisted ankles kill? Good to know."

She wasn't taking this seriously enough, in his opinion. "Don't you get the sense it might be the gateway to hell?"

"Not really; I don't see Granger guarding the entrance."

He smirked in appreciation. "I'm telling him that one."

She put her hands on her hips, craning her neck to take in the entire building. Although it had its flaws, the place had a presence from which chipping paint and overgrown shrubbery couldn't detract. "Look, we should reserve our judgment. Granger mentioned they're going through an ownership change, so a few things have been temporarily neglected." When Callen only mouthed 'a few?' at her, she stressed, " _Temporarily_."

"Yeah, I remember his speech that the 'cosmetic issues' mean that NCIS is getting a spectacular discount for the weekend, but I'd like to point out that even 'temporary' issues can be problematic." Truthfully, he doubted the place was that unsafe, but he'd been trying to scheme his way out of the mandatory trip since he'd been informed of it a month earlier. "You think I can get the local building inspector down here by nightfall? I could pay him off and save everyone from this weekend."

She knew he was only half-joking and refused to give him any encouragement. "I was looking forward to this weekend."

He dropped the sarcasm. "You were?"

She shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. Of course he'd seize upon the topic. "Well, yeah. Not that I dislike my weekends, but they're always the same _._ After a while I want to do something different and this weekend sounded like it might be fun." Honestly, she'd been excited about the idea of spending time with her co-workers – her closest friends, really – in an environment that wasn't fraught with the high-stakes stress and urgency that often accompanied their cases.

"You're setting the bar for 'fun' way too low, Jones," he teased her. "What about expanding your horizons? Haven't you gone to some of those conventions Eric's always talking about?"

"I can only attend so many before they start losing their appeal."

"Let me guess…one?"

"I have slightly more patience than you," she reminded him. "It's mostly that he's a fan of _everything_. Comics, movies, games, and there aren't official conventions for everything year-round, so he started finding fan-created ones. I use the word 'convention' loosely, by the way, because the last one was in some guy's room at a run-down motel, and I lasted 10 minutes before fleeing."

"He brought you _where_?"

She mistook his horror for disbelief. "It wasn't too bad, I suppose, but I draw the line when I determine there's more than a 50% chance I'm going to wake up in a bathtub missing a kidney."

He did a double-take. "Those are urban legends, Nell. Most of the time."

"Your qualifier reassures me immensely. However, you may have a point because I left him there alone and we know he came back alive, right?"

"That remains to be seen," Callen's tone held the slightest hint of a threat. He started toward the house and she stepped into his path.

"Don't even think about it," she warned. "Complaining about Eric's idea of a good time wasn't the point of the story. It was to prove how awful some of my weekends have been lately."

He made a mental note to corner Eric later when she wasn't around. "Your weekends sound worse than mine," he admitted, "which should be impossible. It has to be a dire situation when you're looking forward to a training weekend arranged by _Granger_."

"Since we're both terrible at scheduling our free time, we should come up with something to do together," she proposed.

"Like what?"

"Like a murder mystery weekend!" she said gleefully, holding her arms out as if to deliver him the grand prize of Blackwell Manor.

"You're terrible at this," he informed her. "Next weekend, _I'll_ come up with the idea."

She blinked at him – she'd only been using the set-up as a means of delivering her lame joke. But if he wanted to take it seriously… "Okay," she agreed.

Apparently oblivious to her surprise, he returned his gaze to the mansion that loomed in front of them. "Come on, isn't part of you apprehensive about staying here?"

"Don't tell me you're afraid," she scoffed, with a confidence she absolutely didn't feel.

"Not afraid," he said blandly, eyes moving from each window to the next (there were a _lot_ of them). "I just don't want to die here."

She had growing misgivings of her own, which meant she had to deflect as much as possible. She was about to tell him to man up when a flicker at one of the windows on the third floor caught her eye. She stared at it, trying to determine if it had been her imagination or an actual occurrence. "Did you see that?"

Callen was studying the ostentatious fountain that served as the focal point of the driveway. "See what?"

It was fairly comfortable out, yet she felt inexplicably cold. Everywhere. "I thought…never mind."

"Nell." He spoke in that tone he'd perfected which more or less told her she better answer him or else.

She pointed at the window she'd been concerned with. Nothing out of the ordinary now. "It was nothing. It must have been a staff member."

He watched the window for a few moments before declaring, "Well, clearly this place is haunted." His voice was so even that she shot a look at him to check if he was joking. He _had_ to be joking. Right?

"You don't believe in that kind of thing," she laughed. When he didn't join in, her laughter faded. "Tell me you don't believe that."

"I might believe any number of things that you have no idea about."

"No," she shook her head in denial, "that's not possible."

He leaned a bit closer and lowered his voice. "Me believing it? Or you not knowing I believe it?"

"I know you're screwing with me," she insisted, attempting to stare him down. When his expression didn't waver, she added (feeling more than a bit foolish), "It wasn't a ghost."

"How do you know? Are you an expert on the paranormal?"

"That's not a reputable thing."

"That's a no."

She crossed her arms, unsure if she should be annoyed or entertained. "There's no proof that ghosts exist."

"No proof aside from thousands of eye-witness accounts and various other paranormal happenings?"

Was he drawing her into a genuine argument or doing this entirely for his own amusement? Either option was equally plausible when it came to him. "Eye-witness accounts are not proof of anything except people's willingness – desire, even – to believe in the existence of life after death."

"Spoken like a true skeptic, Scully."

She barely managed to keep her composure. "Sorry, are you supposed to be Mulder in this scenario?"

"I could be Mulder," he insisted with such earnestness that she had to consider him sincere.

"Actually, I could see it," she said thoughtfully, as he started to smile in victory. "It _would_ be satisfying to move your desk to the basement."

His smile vanished. "Do we even have a basement?"

"Don't worry, I'll find a basement for you somewhere, even if it's in a building far, far away."

"You'd miss me too much."

"Wellllll…" she stretched the word as far as she could. "Debatable."

He mock scowled at her. "I'd miss _you_."

She grinned at him, because she knew he was trying to make her feel guilty, but she still appreciated the sentiment. "You'd miss having someone around foolish enough to humor you. Sam or Kensi would have walked away by now."

"Deeks would back me up," he countered.

"You've made my point for me."

"Nell," he held his arms out to encompass the sky above them, "I want to believe that the truth is out there."

"Something's out there," she agreed, "but I'm thinking it's you." She found her gaze shifting back to the top floor windows of Blackwell Manor and couldn't suppress a shiver.

He pounced on her moment of self-doubt. "Admit that you aren't _entirely_ sure about the paranormal."

"I'll admit nothing of the sort," she said haughtily.

"Fine," he grabbed his jacket from the backseat of the car, "but don't come running to me when weird things start happening. Creaking floorboards, flickering lights, an unexplained presence in the middle of the night…"

"Wait," she was hung up on his first sentence, "what could possibly make you think I'd consider you the best ally in a fight against vengeful spirits?"

He raised an eyebrow and, God, was he actually trying to _convince_ her? "I might have salt."

"Oh for…" she actually _could_ picture him pouring salt along the doorways, if only to try and prove that he was serious – when she absolutely knew he wasn't. Probably. "Who said salt works in real life? Do you believe everything you see in movies?"

He hesitated for a moment too long. "Yes." When she shot him another exasperated look, he shrugged, as if the matter weren't of consequence to him. "Believe whatever you want, Nell. I'm a survivor, you'll see."

She certainly couldn't argue with that (even if he was cheating by taking additional credit for 'surviving' things that didn't exist). It went against every instinct in her, but she suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she relented, " _Fine_. If I feel I need help in fending off ghosts, I'll make sure to ask for pointers."

He gestured for her to come closer and she stepped forward, curious. "Nell," he whispered, "I feel you should have learned a long time ago…ghosts don't exist."

She resisted the childish urge to slam her foot down on his. "It's not normal how much I want to hurt you right now."

"You trust people too easily." It was an oft-repeated refrain that Nell had grown used to hearing.

"I don't trust people too easily, I trust _you_ too easily," she corrected. It was a 'fault' she'd recognized for years now, and one which she was never particularly motivated to fix. "It's not as if you don't know it. You take advantage whenever you can."

"Do I?" he hummed, far too pleased with himself. "I wasn't aware."

"You should work on that," she said absently, as she started to text someone. "Be more aware."

He wondered what seemed off about the picture in front of him…wasn't her phone case green? When had he last had his own phone? He checked his jacket pocket and came up empty. "Is that mine?" he demanded. "What are you doing?"

"Just letting Deeks know that you're looking for someone to secretly team up with this weekend –" Callen grabbed his phone back, "– and he's your first choice."

He skimmed his messages – nothing new sent to Deeks – and then looked over at her. "Very funny."

She slipped her sunglasses back down over her eyes to combat the too-bright sun. "Would I do that to you?"

"I don't need to answer that."

"You're right. Of course I would do that to you." She managed not to smile through sheer force of will. "Consider it your first warning."

Callen thoughtfully tapped his phone against his chin. "Or…I _could_ team up with him and then use him to come out the winner. Feed him false information, that kind of thing."

"And the week of sulking that will ensue after he figures out you used him?" Nell could only imagine the train wreck.

Callen's eyes lit up. "You're right! He'd give me the silent treatment for days. You're brilliant, Nell."

"I want you to remember this moment," she told him, as he started typing out a message to Deeks, "because _this_ is what's going to haunt you for the rest of the weekend, not a ghost."

He quickly dismissed her warning. "Please, there's no way this can't work in my favor."

Before he could send his text, Deeks and Kensi arrived, pulling into the long, winding driveway with an unnecessary screech of tires. Nell unconsciously gripped the sleeve of Callen's jacket and before either of them could step back, Deeks spun the wheel at the last minute and parked at the end of the row of cars, careening to a stop two inches from the fountain's edge. Callen didn't flinch, which both impressed her and solidified her ever-growing suspicion that he was a bit crazy. Sometimes he acted as if his glare alone could force others to do what he wanted – even if that desire was to keep Deeks from losing control of a vehicle.

"What are you trying to do?" Nell glared at Deeks as he leapt out of the car with an excitement no one else possessed. "Kill someone?"

"Please Nell, I scored a 98 out of 100 in my last offensive and defensive driving course," Deeks assured her. He whistled as he examined the lack of clearance in front of his car. "Check out that precision!"

Kensi emerged from the passenger seat, equally unimpressed with her partner. "I wish you'd hit the fountain. I'd love to see them bill you for repairs."

"Almost went for the spot next to you guys," Deeks told Nell, nodding at the empty space between her car and Granger's.

"If you had, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now," Callen informed him.

"'Cause you'd be awed at my unprecedented skills?"

Callen waited a beat to ensure his next words sank in: "No. That's not why."

Deeks wasn't sure what their boss meant until his gaze dropped to where Nell was still holding onto Callen's jacket. He should have known – if Callen felt he was in danger, well, it was just another day of the week. If Callen felt _Nell_ was in danger, God help whoever had put her there.

Deeks had seen other people on the end of Callen's threats and he didn't appreciate being there himself, not least of all because he'd take a bullet for Nell as quickly as Callen would, and the other man knew it, too. He was about to say as much when the woman in question stepped forward to avert an imminent fight (it was as if she had a sense about those things).

"I think we can all agree Deeks needs to find more appropriate times to show off his superior skills." Nell smiled brightly at Callen to let him know it wasn't worth arguing over. At least not as a way to start off what could be a miserable weekend if everyone was annoyed with each other.

Callen couldn't read her expression and reached over to push her sunglasses back on top of her head. "Superior?" he whispered to ensure Deeks couldn't hear him.

"Whatever avoids a fight works for me," she returned, equally as quiet. "It should work for you, too."

"What are you two whispering about? Is it me? I know it's me," Deeks accused.

"Yes, it's you. Everything's about you," Kensi sighed theatrically. She'd been enjoying the possibility of Deeks getting berated by both Callen _and_ Nell. Sadly, it looked like it wasn't going to happen – damn Nell and her peace-keeping abilities. "By the way, Callen, don't think that I've forgiven you for abandoning me."

Blackwell Manor was almost three hours up the northern California coast, so when they'd been planning the trip, it made sense for some of them to carpool. Callen had agreed to go with Deeks and Kensi because Sam had to leave later in the day. He hadn't thought it through, though, and at the last minute (read: when Deeks texted him all morning about how he was making brand-new 'Road Trip Mix' playlists specifically for the drive), he'd realized that spending several hours in a car with them would have resulted in him seizing the wheel from Deeks and steering the three of them into the Pacific. Rather than suffering the catastrophic loss of half their team in one ill-timed bout of insanity, he'd made the executive decision to save all of their lives. He considered driving alone, but he had enough silence in his life as it was. One call to Nell later and she'd taken pity on him and let him go with her (as he'd strongly suspected she would).

Callen didn't think changing his driving plans warranted Kensi's accusatory tone. "How am I at fault? You do remember that he's your partner and most days you spend longer than a couple hours alone with him." He glanced at Deeks and couldn't resist adding, "Though I'll never understand how you manage it."

"Like you're some picnic," Deeks shot back.

"But the days I spend with Deeks are not hours on end uninterrupted," Kensi explained, "save for the once-in-a-blue-moon stakeout. For the most part, I can break up the time by interacting with others, or walking away, or hitting people. Did you know that hitting people who deserve it is a _great_ way to relieve stress?"

"Then why not hit him?" Callen nodded toward her partner.

"Let's not advocate domestic violence," Deeks protested.

Callen couldn't resist repeating the word and dragging it out a little too long: "Do-mes-tic?"

Deeks instantly got flustered and turned the conversation back to their boss. "What I don't understand is how you and Nell can spend that much time together in a car and not want to kill each other."

"It's easy," Callen said airily, "I like her."

Nell smiled at him in reciprocation before turning to Deeks. "A few hours is nothing. In fact, we could spend days…weeks…months with each other and be fine."

"Years," Callen shrugged in agreement. And he meant it, because not only was she one of the few people whose company he could stand for long periods of time, he actually enjoyed it. In fact, the more time he spent with her, the more time he _wanted_ to spend with her. Which was a strange revelation to have at that moment, but there it was.

Deeks and Kensi stared at them, dumb-founded.

"I have to side with Deeks," Kensi said, "it's very unnatural, what you're saying."

"How do you have relationships with people if you don't want to spend time with them?" Nell was genuinely curious.

Kensi seemed taken aback at that. "I wasn't talking about relationships. Were you talking about relationships, Deeks?"

"No way, no relationship talk here!" Deeks exclaimed, before adding slyly, "Should there be?"

To most people, Callen's expression wouldn't have appeared to change, but Deeks knew him well enough to read the warning in the way he slightly narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you tell me?" Callen challenged him.

"Look at this place, isn't it a dream?" Deeks quickly changed the subject. "I can't wait to go exploring. Did you two become acquainted with the terrible history of the place on your friendly, 'we-get-along-way-too-freakishly-well' drive up here? I had Kensi read most of the pamphlet to me."

Kensi's gaze held the suffering of one who'd long ago accepted their fate. "Against my will, might I add."

Deeks lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I threatened to –" he broke off abruptly, glancing between Callen and Nell.

"Threatened to what?" Callen inwardly gloated when Deeks squirmed uncomfortably. God knew what he'd promised to do to his partner if she ignored him.

"I said I'd…um, make her life miserable," Deeks claimed, unconvincingly.

"Miserable, huh?" Nell took in the increasing redness on Kensi's face and smiled mischievously. "Sounds like a good time."

Deeks' eyes widened momentarily. "It's not what you're thinking," he insisted, and Nell wondered if he'd always been this bad at lying, or if it was only when it had to do with his partner.

"And what am I thinking?" Nell had to ask, ignoring the way Callen shook his head at her in mild chastisement (as if he didn't enjoy their discomfort as much as she did).

"That's a trick question, Deeks," Kensi warned. When he opened his mouth to inevitably dig himself a deeper hole, she cut him off. "If you dare say one more word on this subject you will regret it in ways you could only _imagine_."

"Sounds more like a promise than a threat," Deeks said, suggestively.

Kensi wasn't amused and threatened to throw his luggage into the fountain. "What man needs three suitcases for a weekend trip, anyways?" she demanded, gesturing at the backseat filled with bags. (Come to think of it, Callen had no idea where he'd have fit into their car.)

They were stuck at Blackwell Manor for a 4-day long weekend (Thursday to Sunday) and Callen was beginning to worry it'd feel like twice that long. He took a few steps back, ever wary of being hit by a flying suitcase. Honestly, being on the same team as them should earn him extra hazard pay. His thought was validated when a roll of socks went flying through the air (Deeks hadn't believed Kensi would follow through on her threats) and hit Nell on the side of the head.

"What the –" she began, and Deeks cut her off.

"My lucky socks!" he yelled, as Callen picked them up.

"My bad, Nell," Kensi apologized, "my equilibrium is off after hours in the car. That was meant to go into the fountain."

"I need those," Deeks insisted, as Callen held them out of his reach.

"Relax, you have twelve more pairs," Kensi reassured him as she rifled through one of his bags.

"Why do you have so many socks?" Callen hoped he wouldn't regret the question.

"What if I spill something on them? Or step in water? Or my partner throws them around the yard in a fit of pique and I lose them to this overgrown wilderness? I'm not going around without socks."

"Wear shoes like normal people do," Nell suggested.

"And stop throwing clothes at your teammates," Callen ordered, whipping the socks back at Kensi in an admittedly hypocritical move.

Kensi ducked and watched her partner chase down his socks as they rolled across the yard. "He deserves it, Callen," Kensi insisted. "I don't think you understand the level of my frustration. Do you have any idea what you missed by skipping out of driving with us? He made about fifteen separate playlists and said he wouldn't sing along to them if I could guess the artist for each song. Since I'm woefully inept at identifying obscure songs that came out decades ago, I had to endure a _lot_ of singing."

"Tell them about my trivia games," Deeks called from across the yard where he'd finally caught up to his socks.

Kensi shook her head slowly as if trying to get rid of the memories, though a slight smile crossed her face and Nell knew her complaints – like most of their 'we're-two-seconds-away-from-transferring-partners' act – were mostly for show. There was no way Kensi would ever put up with Deeks' methods of 'torturing' her if she didn't want to be 'tortured'.

"Right into the Pacific," Callen murmured, lost in thought and staring in the general direction of the ocean.

Nell was standing close enough to hear him. "What?"

He couldn't express the depth of his gratitude for how she'd spared him a harrowing car ride featuring 'The Antics of Deeks and Kensi'. "Just thinking of another life where I'm at the bottom of the ocean right now." The look she sent his way informed him he was out of his mind, and he winked at her.

Before she could ask what he was talking about, she was distracted by Sam pulling into the driveway. He parked neatly on the other side of the fountain and slowly (perhaps reluctantly) got out of the car.

"Well. I'm here," Sam said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"Hey, I thought you were coming later?" Deeks asked, as he wildly shook his socks in an effort to remove a stray leaf.

"What are –" Sam began, before stopping himself. "No, never mind. I'm sure I don't want to know."

"His plans changed and he's thrilled about it," Callen said cheerfully, answering Deeks' question. Sam had texted him shortly after he and Nell left, complaining that his daughter's recital had been canceled and Michelle had practically kicked him out of the house, despite every excuse he'd made to try and stay home as long as possible.

Sam sent Callen an arch look before giving the house a once-over. He actually liked the general idea of the murder mystery and had gone on similar retreats with his wife in the past, but who knew what kind of twisted spin Granger had put on it. "This place is straight from a Gothic horror novel."

Kensi secretly agreed. "I'm not sure if having a real murder as the background will make the experience better or worse."

Sam had no idea what she was talking about. "What real murder?"

"Did you read anything beyond the introductory paragraph?" Deeks held up his pamphlet. Hetty had passed them around weeks ago. At Sam's blank expression, Deeks shook his head in disappointment. "Come on, man, even your partner read it and he's the most likely among us to do the exact opposite of what he's told."

Callen started to protest that characterization before thinking better of it. "Hetty threatened me," he admitted.

"I skimmed it," Sam defended himself. "I thought everything was made up for the purposes of the game."

"If you'd read more carefully," Kensi told him, "you would have seen that the mystery is based on the murder of Thomas Blackwell, the original owner of the house. I wouldn't worry too much, I'm sure Hetty has something elaborate prepared to start things off and help explain everything."

"Oh," Sam said in perfect monotone, "we can only hope."

"How many people do you think have died here?" Deeks randomly asked. "Aside from Blackwell, that is."

"Why do you have to be so morbid?" Kensi sighed.

"Think about it," he insisted, far too excited over the subject matter. "It was pretty common to die in your own home a hundred years ago, from old age or childbirth or diseases. Or what if the ghost that's supposed to live here has been killing guests? I'm sure the owners wouldn't advertise it; they'd probably cover it up!"

"Oh yeah," his partner scoffed, "I'm sure people have been dying here for years and they've magically kept it a secret."

He ignored her blatant sarcasm. "So you agree it's a possibility."

"Can we not focus entirely on death this early in the weekend?" Kensi pleaded, though as she walked with him toward the house, they started debating what the 'real' number of deaths might be.

Nell slowly trailed after them, blaming Deeks entirely for the melancholy turn her thoughts had taken. She had to shake herself out of it. The weekend might be for training purposes, but she was determined to think of it as a vacation (God knew she needed one), and she made a vow to have fun if it killed her. No, _not_ if it killed her. Bad choice of words.

"Ladies first," Deeks announced, waiting for Kensi to open the door.

"Why don't you go first?" Kensi challenged.

"Because I am a gentleman," Deeks said, as if it were a valid answer.

Nell knew they could fight the rest of the day if they were inclined. She joined them at the top of the steps and reached past Deeks for the doorknob. Right before she could grasp it, the door swung open and she jumped back, hitting Deeks who had to reach out and steady her before both of them fell down the steps.

A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, silently watching her and Deeks straighten themselves out. His hair was greying at the temples and he was of average stature, dressed in the formal attire typical of butlers and servants. "Welcome to Blackwell Manor," he intoned somberly, opening the door wider to indicate they should come inside. "Don't worry about your bags; they'll be taken care of."

Nell and Deeks exchanged a glance. When the blonde detective motioned for Nell to precede him, she gave him a slight nudge toward the house. He would have protested except Callen was right behind her. And he did have his pride…for the most part. He grabbed Kensi's hand (not at all for courage) and pulled her through the door before she could protest.

Nell took a breath, tamping down on every instinct that told her to run, and followed them inside.

 **XXXXXX**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Thanks for the feedback, it really encourages me!

 **XXXXXX**

None of them could believe what they saw as they crossed the threshold. While the outside might have led them to expect neglect at best or outright decay at worst, the inside was magnificent. It opened into a massive foyer with dark paneling accented by what Nell strongly suspected was original, hand-carved woodwork. Small windows high up along the wall let in some of the fading daylight, though it wasn't enough to chase the shadows away from the interior, which was heavily dependent on the main chandelier and a few wall sconces for light. 'Opulent' couldn't begin to describe it – the brochure had said the home was built by a family of wealth and means, but seeing the inside only reinforced how true that must have been.

Nell turned in a circle to take in as much as she could. Directly in front of the entrance was the staircase, which led to a landing that split off to the left and right with stairs on either side going up to the second floor. It reminded her of the grand staircase from the ballroom of the _Titanic_. Part of the second story ceiling had been cut away so that there was a large square opening above them. Railings ran alongside it on the second floor, forming a large, uniquely-situated balcony. It meant that anyone standing in the hallways of the second floor – at least in the front part of the house – could look over directly to the foyer below.

After admiring the architecture, Nell gave the furnishings her attention. A desk tucked into the corner probably served as an area to check-in. Several chairs and end tables were along the walls and a few colorful paintings helped lighten the room. Built-in shelves were on either side of the room, housing a few books and knickknacks. The furniture was probably a mix of authentic and reproduction pieces – certainly nothing too priceless for a hotel that saw hundreds of guests each year. Several halls and doorways led off the room, and she guessed if the foyer were that gorgeous, the rest of the house would be as well.

Despite the beauty in front of her, and Nell's relief upon realizing she wouldn't be spending her weekend in a dilapidated hotel, something still seemed off. She couldn't quite place what it was or why she felt that way. An inexplicable chill ran down her spine and she decided to chalk it up to the temperature being cooler inside than out, even if she didn't completely buy that excuse.

"About time you guys got here," Eric grumbled. He was seated on a low bench near the front door and no one had noticed him since they were too distracted by the house itself. "I've been waiting forever. This place is…" he trailed off, shivering a bit and pulling his sweatshirt tighter around himself.

"You're not…scared, are you?" Nell kept her voice low to save him potential embarrassment. Truthfully, she wouldn't blame him if he were. The house was amazing, but it definitely evoked scenes from horror movies and novels. She was a little relieved – maybe _that_ was why she felt uneasy, because her mind was associating the house with fictional things from pop culture.

"Of course I'm not scared," Eric was saying, "it's drafty in here, that's all." Even as he spoke, his eyes darted around as if he were expecting someone – or something – to lunge at him from a random door or hallway.

The butler introduced himself as Davis and started talking about the history of the house – everything they'd read in the brochure, basically. The hotel had been forced to upgrade to modern conveniences and standards (electricity, central heating and air conditioning, modern kitchen appliances, etc.) but they tried to keep it as close to the original style of the 1920's as possible.

He ran through the amenities they offered, and Kensi took advantage of a slight pause in his spiel to ask, "How does a place that appears half-abandoned from the outside look like _this_ on the inside?"

"The landscapers were supposed to come last week, but they had to reschedule," Davis sounded quite annoyed, and Nell figured it was directed at the crew, not Kensi. "We closed for most of the summer and, unfortunately, non-essentials became neglected while crews focused on the interior. Most of the rooms have been redone within the past year. We're nearly done, although there are some unfinished areas on the third floor and in the attic. The rooms being prepped for remodeling are clearly marked as not part of the game." He glanced at each of them and said firmly, "You are _not_ permitted to enter those areas."

" _Not permitted_ ," Sam repeated, complete with sarcastic air quotes. He was well-aware of the tricks these places pulled on their guests. "That's where the real clues are, then?"

Davis' expression became even more dour, if that were possible. "No, the areas are locked because they're dangerous. They're strictly off-limits."

"What would you do if you caught us there," Deeks scoffed, "kick us out?" When Davis merely looked at him, Deeks whispered to Kensi, "I think they'd kick us out!"

Davis was far from amused. "Is this going to be an issue?"

"They're kidding," Kensi hastily said before anyone could annoy him further. She kicked Sam's ankle when he muttered something about not being fooled.

"Lectured already and we haven't done anything wrong," Callen muttered, with obvious discontent. "Granger must have vetted this guy and given him notes."

Nell wished they'd move along so she could start searching the house. She edged toward the hallway on her left and debated whether she'd be missed if she snuck off for just one –

Callen grabbed her sleeve and pulled her back. She shook off his hold. "I wasn't doing anything."

"Uh huh," his skepticism indicated he knew her too well. "Go ahead then. If I'm feeling generous later, I'll fill you in on everything you missed."

"Maybe you have a point," she allowed. She'd probably need some of this information and she wouldn't put it past Callen to conveniently leave things out if it gave him an advantage.

Upon realizing the room had fallen silent, she looked over to find Davis watching her and Callen…along with everyone else. He'd clearly been waiting for their attention, and once he had it, he began talking about recent improvements to the house. Although he hadn't said anything to them, Nell knew the censure was obvious and felt her face heating up; she should have been more respectful.

Apparently it was a lesson Callen could use, too. "You already got us in trouble," he whispered (completely ignoring Davis).

"Shut up," she hissed, as Davis' eyes snapped back to her and she forced a smile. She had a horrifying flashback to high school when she'd get in trouble because her clueless classmates were constantly talking to her. She was always innocent! Well…mostly.

"Nell, please," Callen managed to sound as if he were actually serious, "I'm trying to learn here."

She would have responded if she weren't on the verge of laughing. Deeks held his finger up to his lips and shook his head at her in mock censure. She bit her lip and turned away in an effort to keep her composure, though she couldn't help feeling the damage was already done when it came to what Davis thought of them. And only ten minutes into their weekend, too. It had to be some kind of record.

After an uncomfortable silence, Davis resumed explaining how the game worked. The 'staff' of the house were actors whose roles were modeled on servants for the original Blackwell family. The staff mainly served as guides for the guests, such as giving interviews (in character) which would provide clues about the murderer. The staff weren't suspects, either, only the guests were - which meant the six of them, plus Hetty and Granger. As Davis spoke, three other people entered the room.

"Right on time," he greeted them. "There are four of us working this weekend since you have such a small group. We use our real names to avoid too much confusion. Grant is Blackwell's personal valet, Audrey's our maid for the weekend, and Gretchen's the chef who prepares the meals." Each person waved as he introduced them.

Kensi was struck by how excessively cheerful they seemed, and though it was a welcome counter to Davis's somber demeanor, she wondered if they were already acting their parts. "One maid for the entire house?" she asked Audrey, with a tinge of sympathy.

The young brunette woman dressed as a maid tucked some of her short hair behind her ear. "We'd usually have two full-time 'maids', but the other girl quit not long ago. We have a bunch of part-time people who work here when we're more fully-booked. Also, I don't really clean. I tidy things up, but management actually discourages us from focusing too much on the house. Our main priority is the guests."

"There's a special cleaning crew that comes in regularly," Davis explained. "They know how to clean without damaging anything."

Gretchen spoke next. She was a spritely blonde woman, perhaps in her mid-30's. "I play the cook and I actually fulfill that role by preparing the meals here. We hire outside help to cater for larger parties."

"You're going to love her meals," Grant practically gushed, "they'll change your life!" From his over-the-top description, he was either in love with Gretchen or a theater major biding his time in a minor acting gig while he waited for his big break. Nell would bet on the latter – he was maybe 25, classically good-looking, and had the air of someone who thought highly of himself.

"Thanks, Grant," Gretchen's tone was slightly exasperated. "I'm a cook first and an actress second, which might be why I get such rave reviews." She fell silent, watching Grant expectantly.

"Grant?" Davis prompted sharply, when the younger man didn't say anything else.

"Oh, right!" he laughed. "I'm Blackwell's valet, or in other words, his personal assistant. Hey, you guys are from L.A., right? I've been thinking of moving down there. Do you know anyone in the industry?"

The irritated look Davis sent him was so familiar that it sharply reminded Nell of Granger. "You have the entire weekend to network, Grant. Save it for at least after our introduction."

Grant grinned sheepishly as Davis suggested that their team briefly mingle with the staff. After a short round of introductions and small talk, Grant and the two women excused themselves, saying they had some things to take care of before that evening.

"We're available from 9 am to 6 pm," Davis finished up. "Grant, Audrey, and Gretchen go home at the end of the day, but I live in the guest house out back, so if you need anything after hours, come get me. Our number one priority is to see to your comfort and to keep the game as engaging as possible."

As soon as Davis left, Callen addressed the room: "The sketchy butler lives out back in a guest house? Does that strike anyone else as suspicious?"

"Yeah, he's probably the killer," Deeks said. "He has that murderous vibe about him."

"The staff aren't suspects," Eric reminded them.

"Maybe that's the twist, that one of them actually _is_ the killer," Sam suggested.

"Why does there have to be a twist?" Kensi asked.

Sam couldn't believe her naiveté. "Because _Granger_ set this up."

"Speak of the devil…" Callen said, as Granger and Hetty appeared at the top of the staircase from opposite sides of the second floor. They met in the middle of the landing, and Nell wondered if Hetty had forced him to practice that entrance with her.

"Welcome to Blackwell Manor," Hetty said gravely, as if she were one of the actors for their long weekend (and knowing her fondness for participation, she probably was).

Granger read monotonously from the paper in his hands: "Where a fun-filled weekend meets a thrilling murder mystery."

"Please, sir, calm yourself," Sam urged.

Granger balled up the paper and threw it over the railing at him. "I'm not an actor, Henrietta. I don't see why I need to – as you say – 'sell it'."

Hetty affixed him with a glare over the top of her glasses. "You're ruining the atmosphere, Owen."

Kensi crossed her arms. "Have you ever seen _Clue_ , sir? Because if not, I highly recommend you do so and take down some pointers."

"Agent Blye, my hosting skills –"

"Or lack thereof?" Deeks broke in.

"– are not important." Granger silently counted to three. "Somehow – I suspect mostly to test my ability to remain sane – your superiors have agreed that this weekend will give you credit as a valid training exercise. We've been discussing new ways to test you in more realistic environments."

"Oh yeah," Callen nodded, "this is _totally_ realistic. The six of us regularly spend weekends in creepy-as-hell, probably haunted mansions," he ignored Nell's huff of disbelief, "while trying to solve fake murders."

"Don't be so quick to judge, Mr. Callen," Hetty scolded. "If you give in and drop that chip on your shoulder, you might have fun. As long as everyone makes a serious attempt at participation, they will receive credit."

"What does the winner get?" Kensi went straight for the point. "If we receive credit for participating, then what's the incentive to try and win?"

"Bragging rights," Granger said bluntly. No one seemed particularly enthused about that. "Fine, maybe Hetty and I will think of something else, but no promises."

"This keeps getting better," Callen griped. "Now it's a game where the winner essentially doesn't matter."

"There is an additional component –" Granger began.

"I _knew_ it!" Sam jumped in.

Granger spared him a withering look. "This weekend is also about team bonding, and that's a directive from above, not from us. This format was chosen mostly because it provides a unique opportunity for you to work with people you don't normally partner with during a typical case."

As he'd expected, he was instantly met with protests about how none of them needed practice working with anyone else.

Granger strongly considered walking away and letting Hetty deal with them. Wasn't his life torture enough? "This is why I didn't tell you ahead of time. I didn't want to listen to this for a month."

"We get along well," Kensi insisted, as the others nodded in agreement.

"Have there been complaints?" Callen directed his question at Hetty before looking around at his team. "Is someone unhappy?"

"Nothing like that," Hetty assured him. "As Owen said, this is not coming from us. Though we have to ask, would more opportunities for teamwork hurt in the long run?"

They still appeared confused and Granger briefly relished throwing them for a loop – it was a rare occasion indeed. "Blye and Beale, when was the last time you worked on a case together? Or Sam and Nell? I'm not saying that you have to choose a partner for the entire weekend, I'm saying you're being strongly advised to communicate with each other, _especially_ with those who you don't regularly team up with during a case. Unfortunately, I have to grade your team's dynamics this weekend, so please, at least try. And before you start listing a dozen more reasons why this shouldn't apply to you, know that we're being required to give the same speech to everyone over the course of the next few months. You're not the only team at NCIS."

"Are you sure?" Callen quipped.

"Yes, I'm sure," Granger said, "though somehow, 90% of my time revolves around you. You may have heard rumors of some personal troubles within other teams lately. Romantic relationships gone awry or stories of those who've used their teammates to get ahead instead of working together…that kind of thing."

"Truthfully, you're the last team we'd ever worry about having interpersonal issues," Hetty told them, "but as with any new policy, it applies to everyone. Strengthen your relationships and you'll strengthen your team. Why, look at me and Owen, we've moved past the contentious relationship we started with, and doesn't everything run better as a result?"

"Are you two like…friends now?" Eric sounded scandalized.

"I'm not a fan of labels," Granger hedged, as Hetty talked over him to confirm that yes, they were friends, whether he liked it or not.

"Sorry," Deeks said, "I can't get past the fact that this weekend's focus is on working together, while one of us is secretly the killer. Talk about mind games. That's exactly the kind of thing you'd come up with, sir. No offense."

Eric figured they should mark him down as losing right now because there was no way he was going to win. "You realize these people are expert liars?"

"Then you have your work cut out for you," Granger's words lacked even a hint of sympathy.

Yup, he'd already lost. "At least I'll get participation credit," Eric said, morosely.

"And what does the killer do for the weekend?" Nell asked. "They obviously won't be trying to find out who did it."

"The killer's job is to prevent others from discovering their guilt," Hetty answered. "Spread false clues, give wrong answers, incriminate others. Essentially, act like a real murderer by trying to throw everyone off your trail."

"Try to ruin everyone else's investigation." Deeks rubbed his hands together slowly. "That sounds _much_ more fun than being innocent."

"Still not sold on the fun part," Callen declared.

Granger was rapidly running out of patience. "You know, if you truly don't see the benefit to any of this, I have another suggestion for you."

"I can go home?" Callen asked, ever hopeful.

"The two of us can work together," Granger offered, inwardly smirking when Callen froze, obviously trying to assess the truth of his words. "Hetty and I weren't planning to participate in the investigation, but I think for _you_ , Agent Callen, I could be persuaded to come off the sidelines."

Sam felt obligated to at least try and save his partner – mostly because he was sure that if Granger took an active role this weekend, it'd be bad for _everyone_ , not just Callen. "You know, G, people pay good money for these things. Michelle and I went to one a couple years ago. We solved it in the first three hours and spent the rest of the weekend relaxing while everyone else tried to figure it out. We won, by the way. Which I intend to do again this weekend."

Callen took that as a challenge and the two of them placed a $100 bet on the weekend's outcome. Before long, everyone else joined in and the pool was $600 for whoever solved the mystery (or to split among multiple winners). If the 'murderer' could dissuade everyone else from thinking they were guilty, they would win the money.

"I should be discouraging this behavior," Granger told them, "but I don't care enough to bother. If it gives you incentive to put in effort, then go ahead."

"When can we explore the house?" Deeks opened one of the doors near him, peering through to find a large sitting room. "To prepare for this weekend, I taped a 10 hour _Antiques Roadshow_ marathon on early 20th century household furnishings. Kensi wouldn't watch it with me. She has no idea what she missed."

"That's the point," Kensi told him.

"Was it on two weeks ago? I taped that!" Nell was way too excited. The two of them started debating the best episode of the marathon.

"This is strange," Kensi said, almost to herself. She turned to Callen. "They're strange, right?"

"When it comes to your partner, I don't register it anymore."

"I'll take that as a yes," Kensi said.

Nell and Deeks started arguing over an estimate for a specially-made Kittinger writing desk. She waved her hands to emphasize how far off she thought Deeks was. "As for Nell," Callen allowed a hint of a smile to cross his face, "I think it's kind of endearing." Kensi stared at him. And kept staring at him. And didn't stop staring at him until he said defensively, "What?"

She rubbed her hands over her eyes. "You realize they're arguing about the same topic. Finding Nell endearing means you must find Deeks equally so."

Dear God, did she have a point? "Take that back!" His words came out far more vehement than he'd intended. He was beginning to regret talking to Kensi. About anything. Ever.

Deeks interrupted them. "Who's right, me or Nell? I think it's obvious that she couldn't be more wrong if we were talking about a Kindel."

How many people on the planet actually cared about the value of antique desks? Callen figured it was his luck that he personally knew two of them. Kensi had tried to follow their argument, but they might as well have been speaking another language. Oh, and she didn't care.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kensi admitted, "so I'll go with Nell."

"That was an easy win." Nell triumphantly high-fived Kensi.

"No," Callen said, simply to irritate her, "I think Deeks is right."

"Take that," Deeks gloated to Nell, "us guys stick together."

"Let us know how that works out when you're sleeping alone," Kensi told them.

"Hey, I like sleeping alone," Deeks protested. "I can stay up late and I have lots of room. It doesn't get _that_ lonely, most of the time…"

"You two should have a guys' night." For some reason, Kensi directed her words at Callen. "Unless you're busy lately?"

Callen was completely lost. "Huh?"

"I'm sure you do a lot in your free time. Maybe you're not even home much. Hey, if you're ever bored, Deeks and I could stop by."

"While we're out doing friendly partner things that _all_ partners do," Deeks clarified.

Kensi's words became more intense. "Would that be fine with you? Us showing up uninvited?"

Callen was long used to them acting odd, had mostly stopped questioning it, but this was a step up even for them. "You two want to come over?"

Kensi seemed to be searching his face for something she couldn't find. "Do _you_ want us to come over?"

"Should I?" He looked at Nell, silently asking if she knew what was going on.

"Right," Kensi sounded unaccountably smug, "check with Nell and get back to us."

He was about to ask why he'd have to check with Nell when he caught the self-satisfied looks Kensi and Deeks were exchanging. He should have known what they were hinting at – it wasn't exactly new. He changed gears, since they'd provided the perfect opportunity. "Is this some kind of weird invitation that I'm not picking up on? Because if so, I'm flattered, but don't you think it might affect our working relationship?"

"Working relationships are overrated," Nell chimed in, well-aware of what he was doing.

"You're right, Nell. Besides, trying new things never hurt. Or maybe they _should_ hurt?" He pretended to think about it as Deeks and Kensi regarded him with increasing disbelief. "Let me consider it and –"

"What?" Kensi's voice, when she managed to find it, was unnaturally shrill. "Oh God, no! What are you – no. Never!" She considered that her horrified reaction might be misconstrued as an insult. "Not that you're unattractive or anything. I'm sure plenty of people, maybe people in this very room, would –"

"Kensi," Deeks begged. "Stop. Talking."

It was only then that she realized Callen was fighting extremely hard not to laugh at her.

"You're such a jerk," she sighed with relief.

"If you're prying into my personal life, I'm going to assume you want to become a part of it," he said, unapologetically.

"Maybe we do," Deeks offered. When everyone looked at him oddly, he sighed. "As _friends._ You do know what those are, right Callen?"

"I may have acquired a few, despite my best efforts." He sent a sidelong glance to Nell, who grinned at him in return.

"Told you this wouldn't work," Deeks was quietly telling Kensi. He continued a bit louder, "Good thing our team doesn't have to worry about romantic relationships, right?"

"I don't know," Nell told him, "you do have a unique kind of charm."

"You realize you're talking to _Deeks_ , right?" Callen asked.

Deeks threw his arm around Nell's shoulders. "Oh, say the word. We could rule the world, Jones."

Nell had to ask: "What exactly is your vision of 'ruling the world'?"

"You could hack everyone that ever did me wrong. Fair warning, most of our team is on the list. Granger made it three times alone this week, which means he's tied with Callen at nine each for the month."

"It's only the 6th," she said, somewhat amazed.

"Nonetheless, would ruining their lives be a deal breaker for you?"

"You know, I could see it," Kensi said thoughtfully. "You two could spend hours bonding over old furniture while you watched HGTV. Take him antiquing, Nell. _Please_ ," Kensi's tone indicated that Deeks had tried (and failed) many times to get her to accompany him on such an excursion.

The detective shook his head. "It's not about furniture, Kens. It's about getting you to appreciate the beauty in your surroundings, if it's the last thing I do."

"That's not what –"

"Like right there." He pointed over her shoulder. She turned around to find she was at eye level with an ornate oval mirror hanging on the wall and automatically reached up to smooth down some stray pieces of hair.

"I don't see what's so special about –"

He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in to whisper, "See? The reflection's beautiful."

She was grateful for the relatively low lighting that hid the color in her face, and was saved when Hetty walked around, passing out large manila envelopes to each of them.

"In these packets you'll find information on the character you are representing," Granger informed them. "They also contain maps of the house, a general itinerary for the weekend, and a sealed red envelope that reveals your character's guilt or innocence. Don't open them yet, they're for later and you'll have to burn them afterwards."

"What if we look early anyways?" Callen asked. "Maybe I want to show everyone my card."

Hetty hit him with his envelope. "Respect the rules, Mr. Callen, if that's possible for you. Hidden throughout the house are clues. When you interview the staff members, they'll provide clues, and so will Owen and I. On Sunday, we'll gather to discuss our findings."

"We're also here to keep you on track," Granger warned, which predictably sparked a debate on how much oversight they actually needed.

Sam figured he should use his expertise to help everyone else. There was always a trick to these games. He'd been studying the foyer and noticed an inconsistency in the wallpaper on the wall near him and Eric, right next to a conveniently built-in bookcase. He felt around the edges…was that an indentation?

He surreptitiously got Eric's attention while everyone bickered in the background. "See this? I think there's a secret door here."

"Really?" Eric rapped on the shelves. "The wall might be hollow!"

"Try pulling on the books," Sam advised, as they began checking them one by one.

Eric also moved a few porcelain figurines. "Nothing."

On either side of the bookcase were wrought-iron wall sconces which cast a dim yellow-orange light. Sam pointed at one of them. "What about the light near you?"

"Like we need a babysitter," Deeks was dismissively telling Granger, as Eric reached up and pulled on the sconce. When it didn't move, he pulled harder until –

The light snapped off the wall and he lost his grip on it. It fell at his feet, saved from breaking when it hit his shoe and rolled onto the floor.

All conversation stopped.

"I rescind my statement," Deeks announced.

"I think this door is broken," Eric said into the silence. Sam took a step away from him, then another.

"What door?" Callen asked. "That's a bookcase."

"No, Sam said –" he looked over for support, but Sam was on the other side of the room, seemingly inspecting a marble statue of the Greek goddess Athena.

"Sorry, were you talking to me?" Sam looked up in feigned confusion.

Eric picked up the light and crookedly hung it back on the wall. "I thought this might open a secret door. I was manipulated."

"It's just a wall sconce," Granger confirmed. Unnecessarily.

Eric carefully straightened it out. "And a lovely one at that."

"Any damages will be put on our bill, Mr. Beale," Hetty advised. "If you break anything valuable this weekend, I _will_ be leaving you here to work it off."

Kensi flipped through her packet. "Eight suspects, that's a lot more than we usually have."

"Then it's a good thing your team excels at solving crimes in a single day," Granger told her. "Having four will seem like a luxury."

"Is only one of us the killer?" Eric asked. "Or did two people do it? Or more? Maybe it's a conspiracy and we _all_ plotted to kill him together for some reason."

"Perhaps, Mr. Beale," Hetty said mysteriously, "in which case I suggest you investigate every possibility thoroughly. There's plenty of false evidence to trip you up. You will find, as you begin your investigations, that each one of you had motive to want poor Mr. Blackwell dead. You must figure out what evidence is credible and what's not."

"How good are you at ferreting out a killer among you?" Granger sounded like he was narrating a true crime documentary. "Which – if any – of your teammates do you trust not to lead you astray?"

Deeks surveyed the room. "Yeah, I don't trust any of you as far as I can throw you. I think I'll be working solo."

"What a loss to the rest of us," Callen remarked dryly.

"You're suspect number one," Deeks retorted.

"Am I? Let's find out." Callen made a show of pulling out his red envelope.

Nell couldn't resist looking over his arm; he hadn't opened it. "Interesting strategy."

"Are you attempting to cheat? And we're only on hour one of the weekend." He tried to suppress a smile (she'd known he wouldn't truly care).

"Agent Callen," Granger warned, "I told you not to –"

"And I would never." He held up the envelope to prove he hadn't opened it. "You can trust me to follow your instructions, sir. To the letter. Meanwhile Nell's over here trying to cheat by looking at my card and you conveniently don't say a word to her."

Nell preferred to call it 'looking for an advantage'. "I wouldn't cheat."

"But you _just tried_."

"Did I?"

Callen turned to Hetty, figuring he had a better shot appealing to her than Granger. "I demand you dock her points. Or something."

"Hetty, tell him he's being ridiculous."

The older woman turned on her heel and left the room without answering either of them.

"It's okay," Callen called after her, "we can talk about it later."

"I think you're both trying to cheat with this little act of yours," Eric accused. "Pretending you're at odds, while behind the scenes you're plotting. _Evilly_ plotting."

They weren't doing any such thing, though it was a great idea and Callen wondered if Nell would be up for it. Best to play it off in front of Eric, either way. "If we were trying to cheat, you'd never know it was happening."

"Is that reverse psychology?" Eric shifted his gaze between them with growing suspicion.

Granger checked his watch. "While I could listen to your team's useless conversations for the rest of the day, we do have an actual schedule here. Where did Henrietta go? It's past four and –"

A shrill, chill-inducing scream pierced the air, right as the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.

 **XXXXXX**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Thanks for the responses and encouragement!

 **XXXXXX**

After the scream trailed off (and the lights failed to come back on, as expected), everyone remained frozen, waiting for some cue on what to do next. They hoped it was part of the game, but what if it wasn't? Nell found it hard enough to curb her own instinct to search for someone who might be in real distress, so she imagined it was worse for the others who experienced that kind of situation on a regular basis.

Kensi spoke first. "What was that?" she bit out, clearly not thrilled at the turn of events.

Nell strained to see in the darkness, though it did nothing to help her eyes adjust faster to the minimal daylight coming through the windows. She could make out shadowy figures of the furniture and the rest of her team, but that was about it. Callen had been standing slightly behind her, and she felt him take a step closer, brushing his hand briefly against her shoulder as if to reassure himself she hadn't disappeared along with the light. (Well, maybe it was a real concern, since she _had_ been tempted to sneak off earlier, though it was definitely the last thing she'd do in the dark – and in the middle of God knew what kind of game they were participating in.)

Callen's thoughts were running very similar to Kensi's. "I'm guessing this is part of the game, sir, but you better confirm it or we're going to tear this place apart." Everyone heard the line of tension in his voice that indicated he was holding back his true anger. He and Granger didn't have the best history when it came to deliberately faked training scenarios – Granger's first 'test' for them (when he'd pretended to abduct Hetty) immediately sprang to mind.

Maybe fearing what they might do, Granger was uncharacteristically quick to reassure them. "You don't have to save anyone; no one's being murdered. The scream, the lights, they're part of the game. I _told_ Henrietta we should skip this part, but she insisted and…" he trailed off, presumably unwilling to discuss how his argument with her had gone.

" _She_ insisted?" Callen's skepticism cut through the darkness. "I don't know if I believe that, considering your past decisions when it comes to these types of situations." He might as well have added, _remember when we almost killed you the first time we met?_ because that's what everyone heard, anyways.

"Everything is aboveboard, here," Granger sounded less conciliatory than he probably intended. "The hotel designed the game and we added nothing to it. The last thing I wanted this weekend was to make more work for myself."

Nell knew Callen's next words would be along the lines of _'That's a likely story, sir,'_ which would lead to a sharp retort from Granger, and from there, things would devolve into an argument that got them nowhere, because they wouldn't know if Granger was lying or not until the weekend was over. It was odd, because the vast majority of the time, Callen was able to remain calm no matter the situation. She'd seen him talk down terrorists, guide bystanders through situations that should have been impossible, and risk his own life without the slightest hesitation. Yet Granger had the uncanny ability to push him over the edge – and vice versa.

She purposely took a step back, slightly leaning into Callen as she whispered, "Even if he changed part of it, it's _still a game_." Which meant, by definition, they could beat it.

After a few seconds, Callen breathed out slowly, and she allowed herself to relax along with him. "I hate this game," he told her, putting his hand back on her shoulder. This time he let it stay there.

"Join the club," Eric complained. "And does no one care that we're still in the dark?" What was wrong with them, seriously?

Callen thought Eric brought up an important point. "You know how I hate to question you, sir," he took Granger's short, bitter laugh as a victory, "but what do the lights going out have to do with someone being murdered?"

"Atmosphere," Kensi hissed, and if you went by the censure she managed to infuse into that single word, it was an admirable impression of Hetty.

"An atmosphere you ruin about as well as Granger," Sam told his partner, "and that's a feat."

Deeks was in favor of a good scare tactic or two to set the scene…though how long was that scene supposed to last? "Do we have to solve this by candlelight, or what?"

"The lights should have come back on, I think," Granger sounded uncharacteristically at a loss. "Hetty was supposed to be here for this, don't blame me."

"I'm glad she left us in your capable hands," Deeks somehow managed to completely strip his words of sarcasm as he blindly made his way over to the front door where he remembered seeing a light switch. "I got it…nothing's happening. They must be controlling the lights from somewhere else."

Eric gasped loudly and started jumping around. "Who was that? Someone touched me, I felt it!"

Sam squinted through the darkness at the vaguely Eric-shaped figure. "Is anyone near you, Beale?"

He misheard in his panic. "Someone's near me?!" He lunged forward – and directly into Owen Granger. (Eric knew that was his kind of luck.)

"Beale!" Granger yelled, as the lights flared back to life, temporarily blinding them.

Callen automatically checked that everyone was present and no one had wandered off, or who knew what else. He counted the five of them and Granger, which caused some of his persistent tension to disappear. No matter how capable they were (and he knew they were some of the best), he'd always feel a responsibility for keeping them safe. (Once upon a time, he'd thought the feeling would eventually fade. Now he knew it never would.)

Eric was profusely apologizing to Granger and trying to defend himself. "I thought you were going to kill me," he said, trying to straighten their boss's suit jacket.

Granger pushed his hands away. "Jury's still out."

Eric turned around a few times, searching for some explanation of what he'd felt. "I swear there was someone else here. Maybe they slipped in and out."

Deeks considered that possibility before suggesting a better one. "What if it was an _entity_ and not a person? Then they wouldn't have to worry about moving around undetected."

"That would make sense if ghosts existed. Which they don't." Eric paused to wait for confirmation that never came. "This is where everyone rushes to agree with me."

"Mind games," Sam insisted. "You're letting yourselves get played and I'm laughing on the sidelines. Keep making it easy for me to win."

Kensi didn't appreciate his assessment of their (supposed) gullibility. "Careful, Sam, that's the kind of hubris that gets people killed in horror movies."

"Good thing this isn't a movie," he replied, smugly, which sparked a debate on various horror movie rules, and whether they applied when you weren't in one.

Callen knew his partner was probably correct in assuming the staff had a variety of things prepared to try and scare them. No doubt they were behind the lights and the scream. As for what Eric felt, though, it was most likely a case of letting his imagination run away from him. Callen didn't blame him, either, because the same thing had happened to him earlier. The moment he'd heard that scream, his mind had gone to worst case scenarios. Someone might be hurt or in danger, his _team_ might be in danger.

And if Nell knew his first instinct had been to make sure she was okay…

Everyone turned at once when Audrey flung open one of the doors at the back of the room, running into the foyer and skidding to a stop in front of them. She pressed her hands over her heart and announced: "My employer, Mr. Blackwell, has been stabbed!"

"And thus, after a short delay, the mystery begins," Granger announced flatly.

"Love the way you're selling it, sir," Deeks nodded at him in approval.

Audrey dropped her act. "Didn't anyone hear me scream? We've been waiting for you."

"What?" Sam spoke for everyone.

Confusion crossed her face. "You were supposed to come investigate."

Kensi regarded her with disbelief. "In the dark?" That seemed to be stepping it up a notch for a murder mystery aimed at tourists. Unless Granger had added that stipulation especially for them (and she had her suspicions).

"If you'd left the foyer, the hallways that were lit would have led you to the study. I guess no one told you?" She glanced at Granger and hesitated, clearly not wanting to blame him. "No harm done. I'm here now and I'll help you out, as will the rest of the staff. Don't feel bad, solving murders is much harder than what you see on television shows."

Nell carefully looked away, noticing the others were also trying not to react to her statement. Audrey knew they worked for NCIS, though she believed them to be agents who investigated white collar crimes – bank fraud, money laundering, etc. They had considered several covers before deciding it was simplest to keep things as close to reality as possible without giving away the true nature of their work.

Eric had given them their ID cards the week before. It had been a…fun afternoon.

 _Callen examined his ID with increasing displeasure. "Callen Smith. Really."_

 _"Sorry, that was from when we were going with the bank cover." Despite his words, Eric wasn't the least bit apologetic. "Everyone calls you 'Callen', I figured it'd make the most sense. I still think giving you a first name would deter the inevitable questions. How are you going to introduce yourself to people next weekend? Initials just make them curious."_

 _"And that's my problem because…?"_

 _"Because we are going for innocuous, Mr. Callen," Hetty reminded him, on the off-chance he'd care._

 _"You can pick whatever you want," Eric cajoled. "I've been thinking on it. How do you feel about 'Gerald'?"_

 _"Gerald Callen," Sam repeated slowly, reveling in the way Callen's face got progressively darker. "Or Gerry. As in, 'Hey Gerry, how's it going?' You know, I think it works."_

 _Eric started typing until Callen said, "If you print a new card with that name, I'm going to strangle you with one of these hideous lime-green lanyards."_

 _"Those lanyards are modeled on what the real White Collar Division at the FBI uses for training purposes," Eric protested, watching Callen rip his off his ID. "I'll take your objection into consideration."_

 _"Calm down, Gerry," Deeks tried to soothe, as Callen threw the lanyard at his head. "You're lucky we work for the fake White Collar Division at NCIS, as opposed to the FBI. We can take this kind of abuse, but they're a little softer over there."_

 _Sam instantly gave Deeks his full attention. "Please tell me you've shared your opinion with some actual FBI agents."_

 _Kensi grinned at the memories. "Oh, he has."_

 _"It, uh, never goes well," Deeks admitted._

 _Kensi picked up Eric's ID. "I see you made yourself Head of the White Collar Division?" She looked him up and down. "You set quite the example for us, sir, in your shorts and sandals."_

 _"I instituted a casual-professional dress policy at the office," he told her, smartly._

 _Granger took Eric's ID from Kensi and tossed it aside. "What'd I say about keeping it as close to reality as possible, Mr. Beale? Same equivalent rankings as you have now, just in another division. Don't try to be fancy."_

 _"Sounds boring," Eric grumbled, as he obediently put in the information, "but whatever."_

 _"I wish we'd gone with the original cover," Deeks sighed. "Last time I pretended to be president of a bank, these two women at the bar were all over me."_

 _Kensi filled in the convenient holes in his story: "Because it was a sting targeting them and they were looking for an inside man to help them rob it."_

 _"Yeah," Deeks reminisced fondly, "that was a fun op."_

 _Callen watched Nell attach the new IDs to lanyards. "Could they have chosen a gaudier color? White Collar has no taste. I hope no one thinks I'm wearing one of those."_

 _She ignored him and reached up to put his finished ID over his head, then assessed him with a critical eye. "Lime-green doesn't do you justice."_

 _"Not wearing it, huh?" Sam had long made it clear that he loved Nell's tendency to do the exact opposite of what his partner wanted._

 _"I meant once we get there," Callen amended, "I'm not wearing it…once we get there."_

 _Nell tapped his ID which showed him as the senior agent in their fake division. "Understood, sir."_

 _"Please don't call me that this weekend. It makes me feel like_ _…_ _" he tipped his head toward Granger._

 _She inwardly delighted at finding a new thing to needle him with. "You know, if we went by the technical rules of NCIS, you're still above me. I should be calling you 'sir' all the time. Sir."_

 _His next words stopped her teasing in its tracks. "You absolutely should not. W_ _e're equals."_

 _"Not according to NCIS."_

 _"Not according to our job titles," he corrected, "and you could surpass me someday. Don't pretend like we both don't know your education and background."_

 _She tried to envision being his boss; the image wouldn't come easily. "I'll tell Eric to switch it up next time so I can order you around, let you get a feel for it."_

 _"As if you don't order me around already," he muttered, not low enough that she couldn't catch it._

 _That had led to a spirited discussion over the difference between 'asking', 'informing', and 'ordering' that had eventually drawn in the rest of their team._

"Nell?" Callen brought her back to the present, clearly having tried and failed a few times to get her attention. The room was empty. When had that happened?

Off her blank look, Callen summarized for her: "Blackwell was murdered and basically everyone he knew was a suspect. We have to examine the crime scene." He tapped the side of her head in question. "Where'd you go?"

She fleetingly thought about telling him. _Oh, you know, I started thinking about a totally neutral memory, and the focus turned to you, like somehow all my thoughts do lately._ Yeah, that would go over really well, especially at the start of a weekend where they were forced to essentially live together.

She settled for saying, "I didn't go anywhere. I'm right here."

"Hmm, a literal answer instead of an actual one? Stepping up your avoidance tactics, I see."

"Know what I'd like to avoid?" Kensi asked from the doorway, "losing this game. Are you guys coming or not?"

She wouldn't have interrupted them if she hadn't been certain they'd keep talking in circles for an hour. And that would get them nowhere (she knew from experience). She and Deeks had been debating for months over the nature of Callen and Nell's relationship, and they had as many answers now as they did when they began – that was to say, none. Nell generally kept her personal life to herself and Callen was inscrutable to the point of maddening.

It came down to three options: there was nothing between them except friendship (neither she nor Deeks would accept that); they had a relationship they successfully hid (which meant they'd elevated deflection and subterfuge to an art form that should earn them acting awards); or they just…hadn't gotten there yet. Deeks leaned toward the second option while Kensi was a fan of the third. It had become sort of a race between them to see who could uncover the truth first. Kensi wasn't above manipulating certain situations, either. Unethical? Maybe. But she loved them both, and if they could find happiness with each other, wasn't it her duty as a friend to _make_ it happen? Even if she had to drag them there kicking and screaming because they were blind to it? (Thankfully, she had a partner who favored unethical tactics as much as she did.)

It took a few minutes and several consultations of the map for Callen to figure out where they were going. The set-up of the first floor defied any sort of logic, reflecting the myriad of additions put on over the years. Instead of a grid of hallways with rooms evenly spaced throughout, the halls were maze-like with random doors and plenty of alcoves and closets to hide. Finally, they turned a corner to find the others standing outside the last closed door in the hallway.

Audrey had been waiting for them to catch up before speaking. "This is Blackwell's study, set up as far away from everyone as he could manage. He spent most of his days locked in here. Around 8 pm on November 21st, 1923, after he failed to respond to several hours of his staff trying to get him to come out, a maid broke into the room and found him dead."

They followed her into the study to find Hetty comfortably seated in a high-back chair near one of the far windows. She waved at them in greeting, and it was anyone's guess what she'd been doing this whole time.

Audrey asked Deeks to shut the door behind them, explaining it helped cut down on drafts and kept the rooms warmer. He noticed that the lock could only be opened from either side with a key. "Did the maid pick the lock?"

"You're starting to sound like a real investigator," Audrey said proudly, amidst the others exaggeratedly congratulating him on finding his 'first real clue'. "Her story was that she went outside and one of the windows was cracked open and she got in that way, then found Blackwell's key in his desk and unlocked the door from the inside. According to the staff, Blackwell always claimed to have only one key and he kept it with him at all times. The theory was the killer got out of the room via the window the maid used to get in. Though if you question the validity of her account, other possibilities come into play."

Nell couldn't get over how _brown_ the study was – almost everything that wasn't made of wood had either been painted brown or was covered in brown fabric. Hardwood floors, paneling on the walls, furniture mostly made from heavy oak: bookshelves, end tables, and an elaborately-carved desk (reproduction, not antique). The desk chair was brown leather and a sitting area in the corner had beige fabric on the couch and chairs. She scanned the book titles to find mostly science and legal texts. It was a fairly large room, and quite cold. She didn't mean the temperature (though it was on the chilly side), but the _feeling_ of the room was cold. There were almost no personal touches, not even any knickknacks like they'd seen on the shelves in the foyer. Why would Blackwell have wanted to spend his days alone in such a room? Or was the lack of personal possessions the point?

Once they walked to the other side of the desk, they could see the 'body' of Thomas Blackwell lying on the floor. Blood covered the front of his white shirt and an equally bloody butcher knife lay near his body. There wasn't as much blood as Nell would expect from a death by stabbing.

"The local coroner said Blackwell was dead anywhere from 3 to 8 hours before he was discovered," Audrey told them. "Unfortunately, he lacked medical training and only took the position because the town was in desperate need. Therefore, the time of death has been repeatedly called into question over the years. Blackwell was last officially seen alive at 9 am the morning he died."

"Officially?" Eric latched onto the word.

"People occasionally said they saw him in other areas of the house when he was supposedly locked in his study. They'd call his name, but he'd walk around a corner or into another room and disappear. Or staff would see him through the windows out on the back lawn and he'd be gone by the time they got outside. They'd come to the study to check on him and he'd deny having left the room. Rumors abounded that he might have a secret exit or that he used astral projection to roam the house during the day. No matter how he did it, the sightings of him continued long after he died."

"That's comforting," Eric noted.

"This room is as close to his original study as we can make it. We've used some historical photographs and journal entries from Blackwell and his family members to keep it as authentic as possible."

Deeks pressed a hand to his chin in thought and glanced at the knife by his feet. "I wonder what the murder weapon is?"

Granger settled into the chair behind Blackwell's desk as if he belonged there. "I'll save you the trouble of asking – the knife has been wiped clean. You wouldn't get any prints from it. The only knowledge you have to begin your weekend is what you'll find in your envelopes. Also, every one of you had the opportunity to get in the room and commit the crime without anyone noticing."

"What about an autopsy?" Sam asked.

Audrey shook her head. "None was ever performed. The best we can determine is his family said it was against his wishes and paid off the necessary people to prevent it. The authorities didn't care since they thought the cause of death was self-evident."

"We could try one on this guy," Sam joked, nodding at the 'body' in front of them.

"I don't think that'd be fair to Kevin," Granger deadpanned. "We _will_ be storing him in the kitchen freezer, though."

"What?" Kevin – aka Blackwell – opened his eyes. "I wasn't told I'd have to stay the whole weekend."

"You play a dead body very convincingly," Kensi complimented him.

Granger's mouth twitched, as if trying not to smile at Kensi's words. "Relax, it's professional humor," he assured Kevin.

"Granger and humor," Callen said thoughtfully, "I never imagined those two things could exist in the same space and time." He held up a hand in front of his face to examine it. "Am I really here? Is this a dream?"

Nell reached over and pinched the back of his hand, causing him to shake it vigorously as he glared at her. "Did you wake up?" she asked brightly.

He glanced around the room. Kensi and Deeks were trying to con Audrey into giving them more clues. Eric was arguing with Hetty that this training wasn't necessary for him and he'd better serve NCIS back at work updating security protocols. Granger was flipping through papers at the desk…existing. "No, still in the nightmare."

"I hope I make it a little more tolerable for you," she kept her tone light.

He tilted his head, as if assessing her. "I stand corrected. If you're here, this couldn't possibly be a nightmare."

The brilliant smile she gave him was worth the honesty.

Upon getting little help from Audrey, Kensi switched to asking Kevin details about the murder. Deeks couldn't believe her audacity. "Assistant Director, unless Agent Blye can prove she is a certified psychic medium, I have to insist you disqualify her for talking to the victim."

"No one's getting disqualified. It'd be too much paperwork." Granger began passing out the 'crime scene photos' they'd prepared ahead of time with Kevin. "Blye, don't talk to the dead guy. Deeks, stop telling on your partner. Eric, stop looking as if you'd rather be the body on the floor."

"I'm hearing a lot of negative language," Callen said, echoing one of the ridiculous trainings they'd recently taken. The focus had been to rephrase negative comments into more positive ones. "If you could keep it more upbeat, sir?"

Granger stopped in front of him, clearly struggling with how to react positively to the request.

Hetty grasped Callen's arm, clearly approving. "I think it's wonderful that you've been learning from our trainings. Isn't it wonderful, Owen?"

"Wonderful's not exactly the word I'd use," Granger glowered at the senior agent. Off of Hetty's look, he reluctantly tried. "Fine. Agent Callen, I would appreciate…if you went wherever I am not."

Callen caught the photos Granger practically flung at him. "That's the spirit."

Sam took his copies without comment and waited until Granger went over to Nell. "You realize you're only giving him more incentive to make your life miserable."

"That implies he needs incentive," Callen said, obviously unconcerned.

Kensi had knelt down next to Kevin. "I can pretend this is real," she said, as if psyching herself up. "I hope I do okay because I've _never_ tried to solve a murder before."

"First time for everything, right?" Deeks gave her an exaggerated thumbs up. Granger stifled a sigh.

Kensi leaned over the 'body'. "If I were a real investigator, the first thing I'd notice is that this man is breathing and not dead."

Deeks joined her on the floor, checking the consistency of the fake blood on Kevin's shirt. "Hey everyone, it's only corn syrup! A quick shower and I think he _may_ survive."

"Blye, Deeks," Granger rubbed his temples to stave off an impending headache, "a little _less_ realistic, please."

Nell focused on the room as the others talked (or rather, argued incessantly) amongst themselves about what might have happened. She tried to look past the surface to anything that might provide clues, even though little in the room stood out to her aside from how odd it was to see a desk without any gadgets on it, unless you counted a rotary phone.

She examined one of the framed black-and-white photos on the mantel as Audrey appeared beside her. "That's Thomas Blackwell sitting at his desk. You'll find photographs like this in many of the rooms. The owners wanted to give guests an idea of what the original house and its inhabitants looked like. They won't provide any clues for your weekend though, nor do they help solve the original murder. At least, not as far as we've ever been able to tell."

Nell held the picture up over the half of the room it covered: the entry from the hallway and Blackwell's desk. She couldn't get over the level of similarity between the image and reality, and tried to imagine what it would have been like to live 100 years earlier. Who would she have been? What life would she have known? She lowered the picture to find Callen studying the scene and it hit her like a blinding flash of light – she would have missed _him_. That alone was too much.

Callen watched Nell compare the room to one of the old photos, waiting until she was distracted to walk over and lean on the mantel beside her. When she turned to set it back, she inhaled sharply at finding him so close. "Don't do that!"

"Don't do what?" He was smiling, though, which belied his innocent act. "What do you think happened?"

"I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings and you took advantage."

"Well, that's obvious." His eyes were bright in a way that meant he really wanted to laugh. "I was referring to the crime scene, though. What do you think happened to Blackwell?"

She wasn't sure of his angle – only that he had one. "I think he was murdered."

He started clapping. "We can wrap it up, everyone, Nell Jones has solved the case." Most of the others sent a few glances at them before turning away, no doubt in various stages of rolling their eyes and disregarding him entirely.

Nell sometimes felt no one could ever amuse Callen as much as he apparently amused himself. "I _will_ solve the case, thanks for your confidence." And because he obviously had to have noticed, she added, "There's no blood on his hands."

"Which means?"

"He was probably dead before he was stabbed."

"Or severely incapacitated," Callen suggested. It was instinctive for people to press their hands over any stab wounds if they were conscious enough to do so. The fact that Blackwell hadn't was their first major clue.

Granger told everyone to wrap things up and take some time before dinner to read through their character backgrounds. "I have things to do and I expect that no one will bother me," he said. His 'things to do' consisted of finding alcohol, complaining to Hetty, and then finding some more alcohol after that.

Kevin stood up, cringing at the way his shirt stuck to him. "Good luck, everyone."

Hetty shook his hand. "We all thank you. I'll walk you out." She tried to open the door, frowning when it wouldn't budge. She twisted the knob several times before turning back to their team. "I think we may have a problem."

"Yeah," Nell said, as Kevin started banging on the door and yelling for someone to come help them, "this seems about right."

 **XXXXXX**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Your feedback really inspires me, especially when I am stuck at a certain place, so thank you everyone!

 **XXXXXX**

Granger took over at the door, rattling the knob violently in an attempt to get it open. "Henrietta, tell me this was part of the plan."

She was clearly reluctant to answer. "It might be part of the plan?"

"I know that can't be a question." He pressed his hands against the door frame and turned to look at her. "I know you can't _possibly_ be unsure about this."

"They said the spontaneity was part of the fun, Owen."

He gripped the edges of the frame harder. "Oh right. Thanks for reminding me how much _fun I'm having_."

"What's the deal?" Deeks watched Granger pull ineffectually at the door. "Are we locked in?"

"They most likely wouldn't do that," Hetty insisted, though the look on her face revealed she wasn't entirely sure what they'd do.

Like everything else in the house, the door was made of solid, heavy wood. It opened inward, which meant it was hard to get any leverage on it. Granger settled for pulling as hard as he could until everyone heard the distinctive sound of wood cracking.

"Our deposit!" Hetty reminded him, as he reluctantly stopped. "That's it, we're waiting."

"Fine, let's live in this room for the rest of our lives." He slammed his hand against the door in disgust.

Kensi felt they were ignoring the most obvious source of information and turned to the maid. "You've done this to other groups, right Audrey?"

She smiled enigmatically. "I don't know what you're talking about. However, the doors have been known to stick. Let me try and get ahold of Davis." She held up her cell phone and started walking in circles around the room. "Did I mention we have a lot of dead zones in this house?"

"Another thing to worry about, that's great." Eric reflexively checked his phone and sighed when it alternated between zero and one bar. "You know, Hetty, if I wanted to live one of my worst nightmares, I didn't have to drive three hours out of my way to do it."

"This probably isn't part of the game," she assured him.

"Probably," Eric repeated, scowling. "What if I told you we've _probably_ been left here to die?"

Kevin hadn't been faring too well as it became increasingly clear there was no easy way to get the door open. "Left here to _die_?"

"Histrionics serve no purpose," Hetty said calmly. "No matter what's going on, I'm sure we'll be out of here in no time."

Sam had begun scoping out the room, operating under his own assumptions about why the door would suddenly be 'stuck'. "Tell the truth, Audrey," he coaxed, "there's another way out, isn't there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she insisted.

Her ambiguity apparently confirmed his suspicion. "That's a yes. G, get over here. Does this wainscoting look off to you?"

Callen examined where his partner was tapping. "It looks like a wall."

"It's definitely off." Sam hit it a little harder, hoping to trigger a hidden door or passage. "This whole thing – stuck in the room Blackwell was murdered in? That's more than a little shady."

"You think everything's shady."

"Because everything _is_ shady! Have you looked around? Where are we right now?"

"In a haunted mansion," Deeks threw out.

Sam pointed at him, welcoming the tag-in. "Yes, exactly. A supposedly haunted mansion. I'm telling you, there's another way out."

Callen stared at them, astonished, then waved his arm across the room – the study was on the back corner of the house and there were two windows on each outside wall. "We're on the first floor. Open a window and we'll be out of here in two seconds."

"Actually, they're extremely hard to open, even trying could damage them," Audrey said.

"Break a window and we'll be out of here in two seconds," Callen rephrased.

"Please don't," Audrey implored, unable to tell if he was joking or not (she tended to think he wasn't). "They'd probably blame me if you did something like that."

"Mr. Callen." Hetty's voice drifted across the room, containing a world of censure and warning in only two words.

He dutifully joined her by the door. "Yes, Hetty?"

"Do you have any idea what fixing a broken window would cost?"

"You wouldn't have to worry about it. I'll make sure they know to bill any damages incurred this weekend to our assistant director."

Granger shot him a glare from the desk where he was sitting, trying to get a signal on his own phone. "All fun and games, right? Get back to me with how you feel on Sunday."

"Is that a threat? I can't wait, sir." Nothing could motivate him more than beating their boss at his own game, especially if Granger thought he could sabotage him.

Nell kicked the door next to Callen and then yelped in pain, jumping around and grabbing his arm so she wouldn't fall into him. "Damn it!"

He was concerned since she usually refrained from doing, well, the kinds of things he'd resort to in frustration. "How's that strategy working? Get the door open yet?"

She hadn't kicked it that hard, but wow, were the doors solid and her shoes provided little protection. "I was wondering if there might be a hidden locking mechanism. I can't find anything."

"You mean kicking the door isn't the best way to find a hidden lock?"

She wondered if kicking _him_ would work better. "I got a splinter from the frame," she held up her left hand to show him, "and then I got mad and took it out on the door."

He examined her hand, realizing what she must already know. There was no way to pull it out since the splinter was embedded at the edge of her palm. "You'll need a needle for that."

She'd pulled away before he finished the sentence. "Get away from me, you sadist."

"Or leave it there. That's an option."

"Yes," she said happily, "it is."

He went back to his own inspection of the door while mouthing 'it's not an option' at her, as she pretended not to notice. And unfortunately, it appeared as if Granger had been correct earlier about the door; it wasn't going anywhere, at least not easily. Trying to remove the hinges was risky as well since they looked as ancient as the door and (with his luck) were probably a priceless part of the original house or something. "Hetty, are you sure we can't at least attempt to force it? What's the worst that could happen?"

"You mean aside from breaking it?" She rubbed her eyes tiredly, as if she'd underestimated how much work (or patience) this weekend would take. "Must you always tend toward destruction?"

"You're looking at it wrong, Hetty. I'm not a fan of destruction, I'm a fan of…creative solutions."

Nell couldn't look at him – not if she wanted to keep a straight face.

Audrey hovered nearby, worried to the point of actually wringing her hands. She was probably envisioning the loss of her job if she stood by while they damaged things on her watch. "I think my text to Davis went through. If you'll remain calm, I'm sure he'll be here any minute."

Kevin worked to loosen his shirt collar, no easy feat without getting the fake blood on his hands. He'd also apparently decided Audrey was the best target for his anger. "Remain calm while I'm trapped in this…" he flailed his arms around, searching for the perfect word, "…this coffin?! This was never part of the job description. You know I'm not good with closed-in spaces."

"I'm sorry," she tried to calm her part-time co-worker. "This room is pretty big, though. I don't know if you could call it a coffin. I'd say it's more of a tomb. A crypt, maybe, if you're looking for a burial analogy."

Unsurprisingly, her words did nothing to soothe him. "How long until we run out of oxygen? I see that in lots of movies. We've only got a limited amount of time left and there are –" he looked around, counting, "oh God, _ten_ people in here? We're as good as dead."

"The room isn't air tight," Callen told him. "It's not like we're in a bank vault."

"How are you qualified to judge? Do you spend a lot of time in bank vaults?" Kevin seized upon the topic as if it might distract him from their current predicament.

Callen had no idea how to answer. He'd never interacted much with White Collar agents in his career. He kind of assumed they mostly worked in an office, but hanging around banks probably wasn't unreasonable. Or was it? He settled for his favorite tactic: avoidance. "I don't like talking about work."

"That boring?"

If Kevin only knew how often he wished for boring because that meant people weren't dying. "My role is mostly in a supervisory capacity."

Deeks wouldn't let such a perfect opportunity pass him by. "What he means is he sits at his desk while the rest of us go off and do the fieldwork. Isn't that right, sir?"

Kevin nodded at Deeks in commiseration. "I've had plenty of bosses like that."

"Did you talk about it right in front of them?" Callen asked, as Kevin coughed uncomfortably.

Deeks' smile grew wider. "See Kevin, when you're as indispensable as I am, you have a certain amount of freedom to express yourself."

Granger sent Callen a look that unmistakably said _Now do you see what I have to deal with every day?_

Callen felt a momentary pang of sympathy before snapping himself out of it. "How about you use your expertise with this kind of situation to help ease Kevin's fears?" Callen managed a smile that Deeks surmised was supposed to be friendly (it wasn't).

"No problemo," Deeks said. "You can count on me."

By that point, Kevin had become almost alarmingly pale, and though he kept saying he was fine, he was also breathing rapidly which undermined his words.

Deeks put his hands on Kevin's shoulders to command his full attention. "Listen up. You're going to be fine. There are many, many other ways that you're more likely to die in this house than being trapped in this room."

" _What_?" Kevin was borderline distraught.

Eric apparently took it upon himself to push Kevin the last inch over the edge. He ticked items off on his fingers as he spoke. "You could die falling down the stairs. Or falling out a window. Or tripping and –"

"Falling, I get it," Kevin said, weakly.

"I was going to say tripping and hitting your head. But you're right, that would technically involve a fall."

Deeks glanced at Eric, concern crossing his face. "Does gravity present a particular problem for you?"

"I'm merely listing off the most common household accidents," Eric said. "Don't blame me for stating facts."

Kevin shook off Deeks' hands. "Now I'm worried I'm going to hyperventilate and fall to my death. So thanks?"

Kensi took Kevin's arm and guided him to the sitting area near the fireplace. After witnessing his distress, she was mostly convinced that if being locked in the study was part of the game, Kevin had no idea about it. Unless he was a phenomenal actor, in which case…she could probably go down that rabbit hole forever. For now, she'd act as if he were genuinely upset.

"When you compare this to some of the situations we've been in, this is nothing. Trust me. Take last month when I was trapped in a maze of air vents." She came to a full stop, remembering that as a White Collar agent, she had no good reason to be chasing down suspects with biological weapons. (Or regularly getting shot at, for that matter, which would have been the next part of her story.)

Kevin was trying to focus on his breathing. "Your job involves getting stuck in air vents? Is that normal?"

"No," she backtracked, "that was a rare event. The guy I was after had, uh," ( _a plan_ _to release anthrax_ ) _"_ illegally transferred money and…other illegal things. He ran and I had to chase him down."

"Through the air vents?"

 _Where else would he release it?_ "It was his secret escape route?"

Kevin seemed to be buying her ludicrous explanation. "Well, who'd think to look for him up there? Other than you, I guess. If you're willing to crawl through ductwork, I bet you could easily get us out of this room if you had to. We could probably go out a window."

"I said that ten minutes ago!" Callen exclaimed, as Kevin (and everyone else) ignored him.

Nell rested her back against the door, accepting that it wasn't going to open unless someone let them out or finally decided it was necessary to break it down. "What now?"

He leaned closer and lowered his voice, presumably so Hetty wouldn't overhear him. "She should let me try the door. I'm about 85% sure I could get it open without too much damage."

"85%?"

"Maybe closer to 75%."

"75%."

"Alright, 60%. I'm at least 60% sure."

She clasped her hands behind her and barely suppressed a wince at the pain in her hand, though a flicker in Callen's eyes meant he'd probably seen it anyways. "Your level of certainty dropped 25%. In four seconds."

"Intuition isn't an exact science, Nell."

"It's not intuition. It's you making up numbers to try and justify going against Hetty."

He tapped lightly on the door above her head. Sometimes he swore she could read his mind. "You got me. That doesn't mean I shouldn't still attempt it."

Granger must have been channeling him right then. "I don't care what it costs, Hetty, I'm getting out of this room." He hadn't even made it back to the door before they heard noise coming from the other side of it. Callen and Nell backed out of the way before it flew open, revealing Davis.

"I can't believe this was stuck again." Davis was obviously irritated and attempting to hide it as best he could. Realizing he was free, Kevin ran from the room, yelling goodbye at them over his shoulder and nearly hitting the butler on his way out.

"You mean to tell me you didn't purposely lock us in here?" Granger sounded letdown, as if disappointed he wouldn't have anyone to vent his anger on.

"You thought I locked you in?" Davis laughed, as if the mere suggestion were ridiculous. "Sorry to disappoint you, but your experience this weekend shouldn't be that traumatic. Some of the older doors stick. We had them on the list for the maintenance crew and I'll be having a talk with them later."

"You're lucky we didn't break it down," Granger's annoyance was growing as his anger lessened, "because I was close."

It was Davis' turn to become upset. "Is it too much to ask that you demonstrate respect for our house? That includes taking extra care that you don't damage anything on the premises." He rubbed his hand carefully over the inside of the door to see if they'd marred it in any way.

Nell bristled at his actions. Instead of checking if they were fine, he was more concerned with whether or not the _door_ had come through unscathed? The very door which had more or less attacked her? Alright, maybe she had a part in it, but still, the implication! "He cares more about that door than us," she hissed to Callen.

"I think he cares about _everything_ in this house more than us," he replied.

"Is he…talking to it?" Nell hadn't thought he could possibly get any stranger. Had working there for so long caused him to become mentally unhinged? Was this part of his act?

"He's probably telling it good job for trapping us in here," Callen said, uncharitably.

Davis made some vague promises that this kind of thing wouldn't happen again and Granger (having been beaten into submission by Hetty) decided to let it go. "I guess it was an accident. Sorry for accusing you."

"No offense taken," Davis said, though it was clear that he'd taken offense. "As I told you before, our only goal is to ensure our guests have a thrilling and engaging experience. The last thing we'd do is lock everyone in a room."

"Sure you wouldn't," Nell muttered.

"What was that?" Davis zeroed in on her. "You think I'm lying?"

She hadn't intended for him to hear her. "No, I was –"

"Our hotel has a stellar reputation," Davis was getting a bit heated. "If you doubt me, you can read the testimonials online or contact our owners directly."

As far as Callen was concerned, his entire team was entitled to their disbelief after the day they'd had. Davis obviously wouldn't agree, and from the way he was sizing up Nell, it seemed as if he thought she might be responsible for the rumors that he'd been the one to lock them in.

Callen didn't like the way Davis was looking at her. At all.

"Maybe you could spend a little more time ensuring our safety," he said, successfully getting Davis' attention, "instead of working on that 'thrilling and engaging experience' you're talking about."

Davis seemed stunned. "You can't honestly think you're in any danger."

"We don't think that," Hetty answered before Callen could. "If you wouldn't mind giving us a minute?"

It seemed like Davis might argue until Audrey dragged him out of the room.

Hetty turned back to her senior agent. "Mr. Callen, I know you're used to looking for suspects, but please stop thinking the worst of everyone."

Callen couldn't believe her reluctance to discuss it. Frankly, it was making him suspect her, too. "Really, Hetty?"

"I suggest we move on." Despite the word choice, her tone was most definitely an order and nowhere near a suggestion.

He glanced at Nell who nodded slightly, indicating it wasn't worth arguing over. At least not right then and certainly not with Hetty who was in no mood for it. Besides, there would be nothing to gain from a fight. He knew she was right, but he still checked the reactions of the rest of their team – only to find they weren't paying any attention. They were laughing about something over by the fireplace and had apparently forgotten they were trapped a mere five minutes earlier. "No one wants to back me up? How convenient."

Sam had to talk to Callen later about not making himself a target by antagonizing people – namely, Davis. Or Hetty. Or Granger (though that one might be a lost cause). "It was either part of the game, in which case it's all in good fun, or it was an accident and thus out of our hands. And theirs." Deeks and Kensi shrugged in agreement.

Callen focused on Eric. "You have nothing to say? You were practically convinced you were going to die in here."

"I was kidding about everything," Eric lied, then lowered his voice, "and I'd appreciate it if you didn't draw attention to me, either." The last thing he wanted was Granger or Davis thinking he'd taken Callen's side.

"I think some of us are taking things a little too seriously," Deeks told the room, though the words were meant for Callen.

Callen looked around at his team. "I have no doubt that most of you will be coming to me for help at some point this weekend. When you do, I'm going to remind you of this moment and then send you away to fend for yourselves."

While the others talked over each other about how they'd never need his help, Nell tried to figure him out. Maybe it was his new strategy to work completely alone? "I find that…disappointing."

She'd made it two steps away when he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Not you, Nell. I'll always help you."

Her heart did something strange when he said that, something that seemed close to…caring too much. When it really shouldn't matter what he said, or thought, or did. Especially when it came to her. And yet it _did_ matter.

Deeks saw their exchange. "How come Nell gets special treatment?"

There were far too many reasons to list so Callen automatically picked the first one that made sense. "Because she's demonstrated her loyalty." Before Nell could be too disappointed at that, he glanced at her. "And because she's Nell."

She couldn't stop smiling. "I'll help you, too. I'm sure you'll need it more than the others."

"Oh yeah, it's definitely us. We're the ones seeing things." Deeks backed away from them. "Kensi, help me! I'm trapped in a romance novel and I can't find the way out."

Callen let him go without comment (it was always the easiest option).

Hetty and Granger had been talking quietly until Hetty waved at them, saying she'd see them at dinner. Granger stopped on his way out the door to remind them to read through their backgrounds and wait until after dinner to check whether their character was guilty or innocent. "I'll be around," he added, "though I expect no one to come looking for me unless the building's on fire. Know what, even then just assume I made it out."

"I can't wait to read about your character, sir," Deeks called after him. "I'm going with evil railroad tycoon?"

From the way Granger's steps faltered on his way out, Deeks assumed he was close to correct with his guess.

There was silence for a few minutes as they started going through their packets. It soon became obvious that not everyone liked what they read.

Deeks paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. "According to this, I'm a struggling magician. No way that's possible, I'd excel at that! Anyone have a deck of cards? Sam, check the desk near you."

Sam complied, though he couldn't find any cards. He kicked back in Blackwell's leather chair, which was surprisingly comfortable. "Nothing here, you'll have to prove your skills another way."

"You're also the brother of the deceased," Kensi told her partner as she flipped through her own packet. She was lounging in one of the chairs near the fireplace, with Callen and Nell on the couch opposite her.

Deeks threw himself into the chair next to Kensi. "I'm in severe debt to my brother, but instead of forgiving it, he's making me work it off and barely giving me enough to live on. No wonder I'd want to kill him!"

"Is that a confession?" Sam raised a brow. "Sounds like a confession to me."

"I haven't even looked at my card," Deeks protested, though he needn't have bothered; no one had checked their guilt or innocence yet. "Everyone has a motive. Look at your bio. Retired army general, former business partner of Blackwell, and you loaned him $50,000 which he was stalling on paying back."

"That sounds like fifty thousand reasons to kill," Callen smirked at his partner.

"I'm sure my character is a man of good standing and as honorable as they come," Sam said, confidently.

"The note at the bottom of that page says it's equivalent to $700,000 today," Eric helpfully supplied.

Deeks snapped his fingers at him, as if the case were solved. "Blackwell kept putting off repayment while he lived here like a king. Tell me that doesn't foster resentment."

Sam read through the rest of his own character's history. "Another business partner of ours went missing and we were both suspected of murdering him? Forget it, my character's shady as hell. I wouldn't be surprised if I _did_ kill him."

"At least you're not his mistress," Kensi sounded semi-scandalized as she read through her own background. "I've been seeing him for three years while he was married. His wife, Lydia, died a few months before he was murdered. Supposedly it was suicide. They found her in the master bathroom…upstairs." As if on cue everyone glanced up at the ceiling.

"What's a better motive? Greed or jealousy?" Deeks thought they were both sufficient, so he chose the one that let him accuse Kensi. "I'm going to go with jealousy and submit that you murdered his wife so you could have him to yourself, you hussy."

She couldn't get past the glaring flaw in that plan. "If I killed his wife so I could have him to myself, why would I then kill _him_?"

"Maybe he loved his wife more than you and was furious when you killed her," Sam speculated. "Maybe he figured it out and came after you. Or threatened to turn you in, so you had to kill him to keep his mouth shut."

"Any man who scorns me has it coming," Kensi said. "Know what? I hope I did it."

"Whoa, ease up their black widow," Deeks told her, as she sent him a biting grin.

"Compared to you guys, my character's pretty boring." Eric had chosen to sit in the open doorway with his back against the edge of the frame so that there was no possible way they could get trapped again. "I'm the delinquent nephew who did work around the house for cash. A week before she killed herself, Blackwell's wife caught me smuggling out a silver serving dish. When she confronted me, I threw the dish at her, screamed she was delusional and I was getting it professionally cleaned as a gift, and then ran from the house."

"That's definitely the right reaction to have when you're caught stealing," Kensi said, wryly.

Nell tried to work out a motive for Eric to be the killer. "Maybe you snuck back in later to steal more and Blackwell caught you? Or maybe you wanted revenge for his wife humiliating you?"

"I guess those are as plausible as anything else." Eric kept skimming for clues.

Callen nearly dropped the packet when he reached the third page of his bio. The others were going to have a field day with it and he wondered whether he had Hetty or Granger to thank. He recognized the moment Nell read it, too, from the way she threw her head back on the couch and then looked over at him in defeat. Oh yeah, field day.

He might as well try to cut them off at the pass. "I'm Blackwell's brother-in-law. He hated me from the beginning because he thought I was marrying into his family for the money."

"You married into his family?" Kensi mentally drew the family tree. "He has a sister?"

"That'd be me," Nell informed them. Apparently no one had read that far because everyone looked from her, to Callen, then back to her, and back to Callen.

After Deeks got over the hilarity of it, he started clapping for them. (He was kissing their bosses later – okay, not Granger, he wanted to live.) "Mazel tov! No one told me we could put in our preferences. I would have taken my character in some unique directions."

"It wasn't our preference to be married. If I'd had a choice –" Callen broke off, realizing too late what he'd done. If he said he would have kept it the same, she might be uncomfortable. If he said he would have changed it, she might be insulted. There was no winning for him.

Kensi propped her chin in her hand, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "Oh, do go on." Everyone else seemed equally eager to hear what he might say.

He had no choice except to play it off. "I wouldn't have changed anything about our characters," he said glibly, and right as Deeks was about to jump on the statement, he waved his packet at them, "I mean, look how rich it made me?"

Nell tried for as much outrage as she could manage. "I can't believe you married me for my money!"

"Why else would I marry you?" It was a joke; he could actually think of quite a few reasons. Hypothetically, of course.

She hit him with the papers she was holding. "If this is your character's version of charm, I think my character is an idiot."

"Not an idiot, though possibly a murderer." He pointed out the relevant information to her. "Things aren't looking that great for you, my dear. It says you'd get an inheritance at 35, but until then, your brother issued your allowance. Maybe you were sick of him using money to control you. His death meant you'd get everything released without having to wait for your 35th birthday."

She had to agree it was a strong motive. "If I had to wait, that meant you had to wait. What if we killed him together?"

He thought about how he already did anything she asked of him. "Yeah, I could see you corrupting me that way."

"Oh, I'd be the mastermind?" She kind of liked that idea, as long as she ignored the part where she was a sociopath.

Deeks couldn't believe how in-depth their biographies were. "It says here you two didn't invite me to your wedding and I stopped talking to you for six months afterwards. Do you know how much that hurts? I could have put on quite the dazzling magic show for your guests."

"I'm sure that's why we didn't invite you," Nell said, sweetly.

"Right in the heart." Deeks dramatically mimicked being stabbed and slumped back in his chair. "Much like you might have done to our dear brother."

Gretchen showed up in the doorway (nearly falling over Eric, who she hadn't seen sitting on the floor) and told them dinner would be served soon. Before anyone could even acknowledge her, she turned and left.

Eric leaned out into the hall. "Hey, want to direct me to…" his voice faded when he realized she wasn't there. To the right was an outside door that was locked and to the left was a long corridor that went pretty far before branching off.

"What is it?" Deeks noticed his worried confusion and went into the hallway. "Wait, where'd she go? She can't have vanished."

Sam knew he'd be vindicated eventually. "Secret passages. There's my proof."

"You have to be right," Eric told him. "I won't accept any other explanation."

Deeks was severely disappointed in their lack of imagination. "She's clearly a ghost."

"She's not a ghost. Davis introduced her, everyone saw her." Kensi belatedly realized she was replying to him as if what he said were plausible. What had happened to her over the years?

"Maybe Davis is a ghost, too?" Deeks guessed. "Maybe everyone's a ghost. Even us."

Sam backed out the door. "I refuse to accept this could be my afterlife. I'm going to figure out where she went."

Kensi and Deeks went with him, going on about how insulted they were that he wouldn't want them with him for eternity.

Eric silently debated with himself: leave with the slightly unstable (possible) ghost hunters or stay with Callen and Nell who might very well choose to do something even crazier than the others?

Deeks yelled from somewhere in the hall and then returned to the study, skidding to a breathless stop in the doorway. "I'm fine, Kensi just jumped at me from behind a door. If anyone wants to help, I'll be upstairs in her room setting a trap for revenge."

Easy decision, then. Callen and Nell it was. "Where are you guys off to?"

Callen pulled out his map, turning it a few times to try and orient himself. "We're going to find a first aid kit."

"No," Nell vetoed, "we're going to find Blackwell's bedroom. I read a review online that said if you make sure it's completely dark in there, his ghost will appear in the mirror and give you clues."

Oh _hell_ no. "Deeks, wait up," Eric called, sprinting out the door.

 **XXXXXX**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** I have an ending mapped out, though I keep adding more so it might take a while to get there. Also, I finish everything I start. Thanks for the feedback, I really love hearing what people think!

 **XXXXXX**

Nell turned a corner somewhere on the east side of the house and picked the first door she saw, hoping for a quiet, empty room. She had good odds, right?

Wrong. Because there was Deeks standing at a pool table (playing against himself?) and oh, _even better_ , Granger reading in an armchair by the roaring fireplace.

She slowly tried to back out, but Deeks spotted her, thwarting her escape. "Nell, I hereby challenge you to a game. Winner takes all!"

Nell cautiously looked around. "All of what?"

"That's the surprise."

Agree to a game where she didn't know the stakes? Not questionable in any way. "I think I'll pass. I actually have to –"

"Don't be that way," he sensed she was about to bail, "come in, relax, demonstrate your affinity for teamwork so Granger can observe you and give you high marks later. It'll take some of the heat off me, at least."

Granger abruptly laughed. "You wish."

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?" She checked the hallway behind her once more – clear in both directions – and then realized Deeks was watching her suspiciously.

"Why are you acting shifty?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" She shut the door firmly behind her until it clicked. "Who's shifty?"

"You. Your entire manner." He pointed at her accusingly with the pool cue. "You're hiding, aren't you?"

"I'm not hiding. I'm…avoiding certain things. Stop grilling me, I'm not a suspect!"

"Sure thing, Shifty Jones."

"Why are you harassing me when you could be engaging in your favorite pastime of harassing your partner?"

A hand came up over the back of the couch that was facing away from Nell. "Don't think I've gotten off the hook yet," Kensi's disembodied voice drifted over. "I appreciate you taking his focus off of me while I'm looking for clues."

"If taking a nap counts as 'looking for clues'," Deeks alleged, "then sure, that's what she's doing."

"My eyes have been open this whole time," Kensi said, though she did sound tired.

Deeks lined up another shot at the table. "Who are you hiding from, Nell? Is it Hetty? Is she trying to recruit you to trip me up? I could see that after…"

"After what happened at dinner?" Nell filled in, and oh, what a dinner it had been. "I have to admit it was bold to accuse her of being the murderer and then laying out your proof that hinged upon, and I quote, 'not liking her character's name'."

"Come on, 'Dorothea' doesn't sound like a cold-blooded murderer to you?"

Kensi listed the points in favor of Hetty's innocence: "She's Blackwell's devoted aunt, everyone loved her, and she has absolutely no motive that anyone can discern."

"Right, and I maintain that the least suspicious among us are probably the most likely to have done it. It's all about the twist, guys. What is this, amateur hour?" Deeks sounded disappointed in them. "My strategy was to accuse her in front of everyone and gain clues from how she responded."

"You stabbed her dinner roll with your butter knife," Granger spoke up from the corner. "Repeatedly." (The look on Hetty's face had been the highlight of his night, actually.)

"I thought a reenactment of how the killing blow might have been administered would provoke a reaction."

"Stunned disbelief is certainly a reaction," Kensi allowed.

"Look, it's all part of investigating a crime and she knows it," Deeks said breezily, "so whose fault is it that she got annoyed, really?"

Nell walked by the pool table, pushing one of the balls into the nearest pocket to annoy him. "Yours."

He tapped her side with the pool cue before she could scramble away. "That's fine, I'll take one for the team as necessary. Did you hear that, sir? _For the team._ "

Granger sighed slightly, the only indication he'd heard him, and didn't look up from his book.

Kensi moved her feet in invitation for Nell to sit on the couch, then dropped them back onto Nell's lap when she sat down. Nell couldn't lie down like Kensi, but she did slouch as far as was comfortable to make sure her head wouldn't show over the back of the couch. "If anyone comes in asking for me, pretend I'm not here."

"Oh yeah, nothing shifty about that," Deeks said under his breath, then cheered when he made a corner shot.

Kensi set aside the stack of letters she was flipping through. "What's the verdict, Nell? Guilty or innocent?"

Nell knew Kensi couldn't possibly expect the truth; she must be looking for clues based on how she answered. They'd finally checked their cards after dinner and Hetty had been quick to go around collecting them. She didn't want anyone gaining 'an unfair advantage' by looking at someone else's card. Much to Nell's disappointment, her character was innocent (at least in this version of the game).

"You'll have to look elsewhere," Nell told them truthfully. "I didn't do it."

Deeks wasn't convinced. "Sounds like something the killer would say."

"Your stellar interrogation tactics have broken me," Nell said, dryly. "I'm guilty."

"Sounds like something an innocent person would say to try and throw us off in the game," Kensi suggested, as Deeks nodded.

Nell glanced between them, their faces bearing nearly identical expressions of skepticism and mistrust. "I think you've been spending too much time together."

"You wouldn't know anything about that –" Deeks punctuated the question by hitting the cue ball with such force that it skipped on the table, "– would you?"

Nell heard the door open and automatically sank further into the couch. She couldn't see who it was, but from the way Deeks instantly turned smug, she knew before he opened his mouth.

"Agent Callen!" Deeks dropped the pool cue and motioned for him to come further into the room. "How fortuitous that you'd show up now, since I was just talking with…" Nell vigorously shook her head and motioned to Deeks that she was going to slit his throat. "…Kensi and we wanted to know if you would work with us?"

Callen would be hard-pressed to think of anything worse. "Absolutely not. How were you 'just' speaking to Kensi if she's not here?"

"Nothing gets past you, eh? She's on the couch," he waited until Callen was almost out the door and then added (with somewhat malicious glee), "right next to Nell."

"Dead. You are dead, dead, _dead_ ," Nell hissed. She needed to work on her threats if he genuinely wasn't afraid of her anymore.

"Ladies," Callen spoke from above them.

"Hey, Callen," Kensi grinned up at him. "How odd to see you here. Where Nell is. Like usual."

Nell reluctantly tipped her head back to meet his eyes. "Were you looking for me? I had no idea."

"You _ran away_ from me."

"I wasn't running away, I was in a hurry to…explore. Not my fault you couldn't keep up."

"I applaud your attempt at evasion," he said, "woeful as it was."

"What 'attempt'? I evaded you."

"Yeah, I have no idea where you are right now."

"Temporarily," she said, more than a little petulant.

He looked away so she wouldn't see his smile and think that she won. Slightly behind the couch was a small table with two chairs, clearly meant for two-player games like chess, and he dropped a small box onto it. "Get over here."

"Or what?"

An uncomfortable silence descended and Deeks didn't last more than a minute before kicking the edge of the couch. "Nell, his thousand-yard-stare is getting to me."

"Ugh, fine." She joined Callen at the table.

"You or me," he told her.

Since Deeks could count on one hand the number of times Nell had deliberately avoided Callen, he'd done the math and figured out what her problem was. "Callen's trying to help you and this is how you show your gratitude? Good call."

"I wouldn't mind if he knew what he was doing."

"I know what I'm doing. _Someone_ can't hold still."

"You stabbed me with a needle!"

"You jumped before I could even get near your hand. Technically, you stabbed yourself with the needle I happened to be holding."

"I don't remember it that way," she insisted (it had actually happened _exactly_ that way). "I'll do it myself."

Deeks poured himself a drink from the decanter in the corner and walked over to them. He wanted a front row view of whatever happened next.

Nell put her left hand on the table and pressed on the edge of where the splinter had gone in, perhaps in some hope it'd magically come out. It was deeper than she'd initially thought and she didn't like the idea of digging it out. She wasn't afraid of blood or needles – or pain, for that matter. It was the thought of pushing the needle into her skin that made her stomach turn. That was totally normal, right?

Callen reached over and took Deeks' drink from him, amidst his vehement protests, and poured it over Nell's hand and the needle.

She made an elaborate show of shaking the liquid off. "Did you see the rubbing alcohol?" She pulled the small bottle out of the first aid kit and set it in front of him.

"Sure I did. It was more fun to use his drink."

"Waste of good alcohol is what it is," Deeks grumbled to himself as he topped off his glass. "You should be arrested for it."

Nell geared herself up a few times to remove the splinter and kept stopping at the last second.

Deeks waved his glass at them. "Do you want some help, Nell?"

"Only if you keep drinking," she told him. "It's building my confidence in your first aid skills."

"I've been told I have a steady hand," he argued, holding his right hand out, apparently in demonstration.

Kensi started laughing as she sat up and looked at them over the back of the couch (until then, Nell thought she'd actually fallen asleep). "Holding your hand still is a real accomplishment, Deeks. We're very impressed."

"Funny, because you certainly _seemed_ impressed the last time I demonstrated expert control over my hands," Deeks said, carefully.

Kensi's eyes widened. "Keep it up and you will never get to impress me. Ever again."

"It'd be your loss," Deeks smirked at her, confident she'd never follow through.

Kensi threw a pillow at her partner, Nell jerked the needle away from her hand at the last second, and Callen held up four fingers to indicate that was her fourth attempt.

Nell flipped some hair out of her face. "Of course you're keeping score. That one doesn't count. I was distracted by the antics of my colleagues. You'd think they'd learn to control themselves when their boss –"

Granger shut his book with an audible thump, cutting her off. He'd realized a long time ago that they'd _never learn_ ( _s_ ome of them, anyways). "Over thirty rooms in this house and you pick the one I'm in. _Why_?"

"To make sure it's as easy as possible to get your job done this weekend," Deeks told him, smartly. "I know you're looking forward to the evaluations."

"Forget observing your behavior," Granger said, "might as well start the actual reports right now." He swapped his book for the tablet on the end table next to him.

Deeks looked from his glass to Granger. "Does this count as drinking on the job? Because I need this. Not that I _need_ alcohol. Not that I'm an _alcoholic_. Today has been stressful, so I think I'm entitled to a drink to cap it off. Sir."

Granger merely looked at him and then typed some things on the tablet.

"Stop judging me for this!"

"Rest easy," Granger assured him, "drinking is the least of the things that I'd judge you for."

Deeks visibly relaxed. "Okay then…wait a minute."

"I'm no surgeon," Callen was telling Nell, "but I think it'd help if you kept your eyes open."

"They are open," she lied. "I was only squinting which can increase visual acuity in certain situations." She studied her hand to buy herself more time. She was actually quite good at first aid, but there was a world of difference between doing something on a dummy – or a teammate – as opposed to doing it on herself. She supposed she should learn to trust herself better, but she wasn't in the right frame of mind.

"Trouble in paradise after only two hours?" Deeks sipped his scotch. "I could help if you want. I'm great at getting to the heart of why relationships fail, and for you two…oh, I have quite the list prepared already."

Callen tapped his fingers on the table with each ensuing word: "We. Are. Not. In. A. Relationship."

"Congratulations! You've already acknowledged your first problem."

Granger got up to pour a drink of his own. "Deeks, the day those two take relationship advice from you is the day I know their competence needs to be reevaluated."

"I have had many, many…" Deeks thought one more 'many' would solidify his point, " _many_ successful relationships."

"How many, exactly?" Nell asked.

He knew a trap when he saw it. "Irrelevant."

"Jumping from woman to woman isn't that successful in the long-term," Callen pointed out.

"We have different definitions of 'successful', my friend." Deeks clapped him on the shoulder, then glanced at the couch where Kensi had dropped back out of view. "Coincidentally, my definition has drastically changed over the years."

Yeah, Callen thought, so had his. He looked back at Nell who was no closer to taking out her splinter than she'd been ten minutes earlier. As if sensing his gaze, she reached over to give him back the needle, tacitly admitting defeat.

"Now it might help to close your eyes," he joked, running his thumb over the palm of her left hand. It was meant to both calm her and serve as an apology for any future pain he might cause.

Deeks was watching Nell with curiosity. "It's not like you to be afraid of something so minor."

"I'm not afraid." She tried to fold her arms and Callen grabbed the wrist of her left hand to stop her. Right. That wouldn't help. "I don't like the _idea_ of it."

Deeks gave her his glass and she gladly sipped from it. "I don't like the idea of taxes. Kensi doesn't like the idea of commitment. Hell, Granger doesn't like the idea of half of what our team does on a regular basis."

"More than half," Granger clarified.

"Sometimes you have to soldier through," Deeks said.

Nell wasn't sure how much he was helping. "That's your advice?"

"Yup, and most of the time you'll realize that whatever you fear isn't nearly as bad as you thought it'd be, or that it beats the alternative. For example, I pay taxes and stay out of jail. My partner –"

"Is rethinking her decisions on a lot of things lately," Kensi interrupted him.

"We'll skip over that example," Deeks said, "though maybe have a drink, Kens?" He lowered his voice in aside to Callen and Nell, "She's a lot more open to discussion when she's had a few."

"I don't envy you later," Callen murmured, not looking up from his task.

"Where was I?" Deeks asked. "Ah, right, our boss. See how he comes to work sober and manages to stay that way for the whole day?"

"Eh." Granger tipped his hand back and forth in a 'more or less' gesture.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be getting out of this except that half of our team might have a drinking problem," Nell said, as Deeks retrieved his glass and finished it off, maybe proving her point.

"There's nothing to get," Deeks nodded at her hand, "except for the wonders of distraction." She looked down to find Callen had gotten the splinter out and she hadn't even felt it. He pressed some gauze soaked with rubbing alcohol over the area, which was bleeding slightly. _That_ she felt, though she was too relieved that it was over for the pain to bother her.

She thanked them both and couldn't resisting teasing, "You two work well together. Maybe you should do it more?"

"Nah," Deeks said quickly, "you can keep him."

"I'd have your team swap partners more often if I weren't fairly certain Deeks and Callen would kill each other," Granger revealed.

"They weren't fighting just now," Nell pointed out.

"In our defense," Deeks said, "we always get along when the focus is something, or someone, we love."

Callen had gotten his own drink and tapped it against Deeks' glass. "Ain't that the truth."

It took Nell a moment to realize they were talking about her. _She_ was the 'someone' they both loved.

She swallowed around the sudden tightness in her throat and accepted a glass from Callen. Everyone knew how much they all cared for each other. It was a permanent thread that ran through their interactions with each other, and if they talked about it, it was usually in a joking manner, never serious. But it was always _there_ and hearing them say it out loud, hearing them talk about _her_ in such a matter of fact way…it meant a lot more to her than she'd thought it would.

"Since Deeks has proven tonight that he is, in fact, good for something," Callen was saying, "I guess he can stay on our team a little while longer."

"Please, if anything I do you a service by bringing my considerable talents to the table," Deeks scoffed.

Kensi came over to inspect Nell's hand, lifting the gauze to find the bleeding had stopped. "You need to wash that and put a band-aid on it."

Nell nodded in acknowledgement, though she still didn't speak.

"You're awfully quiet. Does it hurt?"

"No, just thinking."

Kensi followed her gaze to Callen and Deeks (they'd moved on to arguing over who could solve Blackwell's murder faster, despite there being no actual prize to figuring it out before anyone else). "I whole-heartedly agree with you."

Nell furrowed her brow. "I didn't tell you what I was thinking."

"I have a pretty good guess."

Nell wasn't sure how to respond to that and their assistant director inadvertently saved her. "Good job this evening. I'm impressed," his tone was serious, surprising everyone a little. Praise from him wasn't unheard of, but it was rare (and rarer still to be delivered in such a friendly manner, as opposed to a begrudging compliment that came after a list of criticisms). "I like what I saw today, so I'm giving top marks to all of you."

"This is how we usually work together," Callen said defensively, unsure if Granger was setting them up for some kind of trap.

"Yeah, we take care of each other," Deeks said jovially, which was really just a way of rephrasing what Callen had said.

"Believe me, I know," Granger said. "It's nice to be able to give you credit for it. Officially."

Callen opened his mouth and Kensi gripped his arm to keep him silent. "Thank you, sir," she said. "We appreciate that."

Granger held up the decanter that had started out full and was now more than half empty. "Hetty's going to love it when she sees our itemized bill." He shrugged, as if dismissing her future complaints, and took it with him as he left the room.

 **XXXXXX**

Their bedrooms were at the front part of the house on the second floor. Nell's was to the left of the main staircase, along with Kensi, Callen, and Sam. On the opposite side, across the interior balcony, were Eric, Deeks, Hetty, and Granger. The bedrooms at the back of the second floor were empty, including Blackwell's, but that meant they could explore them at any time without worrying about intruding on anyone who might be staying in the rooms.

Each bedroom had the same basic set-up – king-sized bed, dresser and bureau, sitting area with a couch and some chairs, and a desk along one of the walls. The décor was what differed – each room had its own color scheme and they all had window dressings and paintings unique to the rooms. Despite their similarities, the interior decorating was done well enough that the rooms lacked the stale, uniform feeling so prevalent in hotels. Nell's room was dressed in shades of gold, pink, and red. She loved it, actually. If she pretended for a moment, it wasn't hard to imagine she was living in the past.

As she unpacked some of her things, she thought about how odd it was to be in a house filled with other people. Sure, she lived in an apartment complex, but it was a good one where 95% of the sounds from her neighbors were muffled. As such, hearing the rest of her team moving around, talking and laughing, and otherwise preparing for bed was pretty disconcerting.

Deeks was trying to get Kensi to switch rooms with him – something about how the gaze of the portrait in his room (purportedly of Blackwell's brother, the character Deeks was playing) followed him around and it was making him uneasy. Kensi kept refusing, causing Deeks to escalate his arguments. (Nell found the whole thing even more amusing because she was 99% certain they would be sharing a room and the loud fight was for everyone else's benefit.) Eric was playing some sort of jazz-electronic hybrid of music on his laptop that Nell didn't particularly care for and which Sam outright hated. Every time he yelled across the balcony at him to turn it down, Eric would comply before turning it back up again five minutes later. Callen was…well, she honestly had no idea, though from the constant thuds, bangs, and strange scraping sounds coming through the wall, the best she could guess was that he was rearranging furniture.

She'd been listening to it (and speculating about it) for at least twenty minutes when a loud crash sounded from his room.

"You alive in there, G?" Sam called.

"Yeah, fine," Callen returned, sounding none too happy.

Hetty walked by Nell's room and stopped at Callen's open door. "Mr. Callen, be careful lest you summon Davis up here to lecture you on treating the furniture with respect."

Nell could only imagine Callen's face upon receiving that advice. "I'll try to keep it down. I know my elders need their beauty sleep." He elevated his voice, "Right, Granger?"

"I see someone wants to sleep in the attic," Granger yelled from somewhere on the other side of the balcony. Nell couldn't quite pinpoint his location, though she did hear Hetty ask him to join her downstairs in a game of chess, thereby averting an argument.

Five minutes passed before Callen resumed whatever he'd been doing and a particularly loud thud landed against the wall her room shared with his. She couldn't stand it anymore and went to his room, stopping in the doorway to take in the disarray of all the furniture that had been moved. Even the paintings were off the walls and the window dressings were awry. Somehow, the room still maintained its beauty (done in royal blues and deep golds) despite the chaos. "What are you _doing_ in here?"

"Exploring."

Oh. Obviously. "I'm sure you have a reason for this?"

"Indeed, I do." He handed her a letter and she settled on the edge of the four poster bed to read it. It was from his character to hers and detailed how he'd hidden proof of Blackwell's illegal business practices in a ledger in his room – but it didn't disclose where he'd hidden it.

"Is this why you're keeping me awake?"

He looked at her, incredulous. "It's 8:45."

"Maybe this is when I go to bed," she countered.

He gripped one of the posts on the bed and leaned forward, a few inches shy of entering her personal space. "Maybe this is when you argue with me just to argue with me."

Her eyes were bright. "That's entirely possible. Have you found anything besides dust and cobwebs and a lot of nothing?"

"I've had no luck. The room's shockingly clean, probably because they've run through this scenario so many times. I was about to check –"

She spotted something on the wall over his shoulder. "What about that grate?"

"That grate," he exhaled loudly, letting her know that was the end of the sentence she'd interrupted.

She beat him to it, prying open the small heating grate that had been exposed when he moved the dresser aside. It turned out it wasn't actually a heating grate, but a decoy one that looked like the rest in the house. Inside was the mysterious ledger. "Look what I found!"

"Yeah, _you_ found it, with no help from me."

She eagerly flipped through it and quickly realized the ledger was an accounting for one of Blackwell's businesses that showed how he was illegally hiding his money. She noticed the name 'Ben Wellesley' on many of the pages – that was Sam's character. Apparently Blackwell had been taking his partner's money and using it for his own expenses rather than investing it.

She handed the book to Callen. "Looks like evidence against Sam." They could speculate about who might have done it, and why, until the end of time, but at the end of the day, they had to come up with actual evidence to prove their theories and this was a step in the right direction.

"Don't discount either one of us," Callen reminded her. "That letter proves our characters knew what Blackwell was doing. Maybe we blackmailed him in exchange for our silence on how he was misusing his partner's funds?"

Deeks peered around the door frame. "Did I hear the word 'blackmail'?" He noticed the furniture at odd angles around the room. "Pray tell, what's going on in here?"

"I can't sleep facing east," Callen told him, without hesitation.

That threw the other man. "Really?"

"No, not really," Nell answered for Callen. "Can we help you?"

"Yes, dear sister, you can. I decided it was the perfect time for a quick search of this room."

Deeks started walking around, poking and prodding at whatever he could, more interested in figuring out what they were doing than in searching for actual evidence.

"I don't recall inviting you in," Callen said, "so why don't you see yourself out?"

"Not so fast, Callen. The rules clearly state we can search each other's rooms until 10 pm. It's currently 8:57." He brandished his phone to prove it. "What are you two looking at?"

"I suppose in good conscience we can't purposely hide what we found from you," Nell told him, though she was lying; she wouldn't have mentioned it if he hadn't asked…although maybe it'd be helpful to gain his trust.

Callen gave him the ledger as Nell briefly summarized its contents and what it meant.

"It's interesting," Deeks conceded, "though I don't think there's enough evidence to conclusively prove anyone's guilt. You should know that my prevailing theory is that the two of you did him in together."

"And we're supposed to believe you're innocent? You're trying to survive on a magician's salary," Nell said.

"Do magicians even get salaries?" Callen mused. "I think they're paid on commission. Which means if you're not good enough to line up any work…"

Deeks checked out the mostly empty closet, disappointed that his search of the room had turned up nothing of interest. "I know quite a few magic tricks that'll blow you away. I'm going to prove it, too."

"We can't wait," Callen tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice and wasn't sure if he'd succeeded.

Deeks spied a forgotten bag in the corner and grabbed it. "I think you missed something." He upended the contents on the bed before Callen could stop him.

"That's mine." Callen grabbed his now-empty suitcase from Deeks. "Does this look like it was made in the early 1900's?"

"Yes? You should strongly consider buying new luggage." Deeks didn't think he could be blamed for such an innocent mistake. He made a haphazard attempt at neatening up the clothes he'd strewn about. "Do you own the same shirt in six different colors?"

"Get out." Callen held the door open for him.

"But Nell's in here –"

"We're not talking about Nell. We're talking about you."

"I should lodge an official complaint," Deeks said, as he stepped into the hall. "How come she gets to stay and I don't?"

"We're married. Night, Deeks." He kicked the door shut over Deeks' protests that their faux-marriage had caused Callen to abandon his team in favor of Nell.

Callen started refolding his clothes. He hadn't bothered unpacking earlier because he figured it was more work than taking things out of his suitcase as he needed them. Apparently, the joke was on him. He held up three shirts in varying shades of blue. "You can tell these are different, right?"

Nell bit her lip. "They're nothing like what you're wearing."

He glanced down at his navy blue shirt. "Damn. How predictable am I, Nell? Tell the truth."

She avoided the question. "If you want to mix it up, I'm sure Eric would lend you something."

He couldn't conceal his horror at the suggestion and rummaged through his clothes, looking for anything other than blue. "I'll wear gray tomorrow."

Of course he'd choose a color even more somber than dark blue. She picked up two button downs, one dark gray and one light gray. "Whichever one? Choices, choices." She laughed when he grabbed them both from her, mumbling something about how neutral colors suited him.

He began to move the furniture back into place and she leaned against the headboard to continue flipping through the ledger. It was the perfect opportunity to ask a question she'd been wondering for most of the day. "Did you want to work together on this?"

He was struggling to straighten out a painting on the wall. "I thought we already were. What'd your card say?"

"I'm innocent."

"Me too."

"I don't know if I should believe you or not."

"I feel the exact same way."

She met his eyes over the top of the ledger and couldn't contain her smile. "This is fun. A lot of fun."

Initially, he hadn't been that enthused at the prospect of devoting an entire weekend to this endeavor, but as he got into it, he realized it wasn't half as bad as he'd feared. The thought of beating everyone else was a tantalizing prospect. More than that, seeing her enthusiasm as time went on, well…it had never taken much more than reading her feelings to sway his opinion on something, one way or the other. "I have to agree."

They threw around a few more theories on what might have happened to Blackwell as the sounds of other people in the house gradually faded. Nell returned to her room around 10, though she was too restless to turn in, so she browsed news stories on her phone instead. Not a half hour later, the lights in her room flickered and died. Faint light still came in from the hallway, so she assumed the issue hadn't affected the whole house.

The connecting bathroom she shared with Kensi was dark and she went through it on the slim hope the other woman might be occupying her own room. Kensi's bed hadn't even been touched and Nell concluded she was with Deeks. She checked the light switches in Kensi's room, her own, and the bathroom, but none of them had any effect on the lights. Her first instinct was to wait and see if she was being set up, though as more time passed and nothing happened, she knew the most likely option was that a fuse had been tripped.

She went into the hall and leaned against the balcony railing that looked over the foyer. There were a few lights on down there which made her feel better. To her left, Callen and Sam's doors were shut. Across the balcony, the only door open was Eric's (though his room was dark). The house had been quiet for a while; most likely the others were sleeping. She was extremely tempted to knock on Callen's door and ask him to come with her to check the fuse box (or better yet, to go in place of her). What would getting him accomplish, though, other than making her look weak? She was a trained federal agent and she held their lives in her hands on a regular basis; she should be able to determine if a fuse had been tripped. Besides, her ultimate goal was to become a field agent and she didn't need anyone thinking she required help for a task as simple as checking some circuit breakers.

She had to do it herself, even if the thought of venturing to the basement alone filled her with absolute dread.

She grabbed her cell phone, double-checked the map, and reminded herself that no matter how uneasy she felt, she was perfectly safe everywhere in the house. What was the worst that could happen?

 **XXXXXX**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks for the feedback, it makes me so happy!**

 **XXXXXX**

Nell weighed her options as she stood at the top of the basement stairs. Was it too late to turn back? She'd already made it this far, which had been much more of a hassle than she'd anticipated. She'd taken four wrong turns (it seemed half of the first floor was dark), struggled to get the basement door open (it stuck, of course), and to top it off, the basement lights were out, too. She angrily flipped the switch up and down again, as if it might work on the fifteenth try when it hadn't for the first fourteen.

The stairs descended into a black, unwelcoming void. The flashlight app on her phone was strong enough to reach the bottom step, but beyond that small pool of light was complete darkness – she'd have to actually go down there to see any further.

One thing made up her mind: turning back felt too much like admitting defeat.

She went slowly, the wooden stairs creaking loudly with every step, as if protesting that they had to support her weight. She winced every time they made a particularly loud crack. Despite the noise, at least they were sound and didn't collapse beneath her (and what a low bar she had lately if _not plunging to her death_ was something to be grateful for). Each step further down made her more uneasy than the last, an unpleasant reminder of how she'd felt when she first entered the house. She'd thought the feeling had faded, maybe disappeared completely, but it must have been simmering at a low level. Now, with everyone else two floors away from her, she once again had the uncanny feeling that something was wrong. It didn't matter if the feeling was a result of her overactive mind – it was _there_. And she couldn't make it go away.

She finally reached the bottom and did a quick sweep of the room with her phone. She was so preoccupied with ensuring there were no murderers lurking in the corners that she failed to notice how cold it was until she started shivering. They were experiencing abnormally cool weather, but ever since they'd arrived, she'd thought that the inside of the building was oddly colder than the outside. It was yet another reason to hurry up her search and get the hell out of there.

The more she looked around the room, the more she was convinced she was witnessing the last stop before things in the house made it to the trash. There was junk _everywhere._ Old furniture pushed up against the walls (changed out during the remodeling?), boxes stacked high with clothes and books, and rows of shelves filled with packaged food, cases of drinks, and various toiletries. Finding evidence that the staff regularly came downstairs eased her mind a little. They would notice if some drifter set on killing everyone had set up a makeshift home down there, right? (Though judging by the disaster in front of her…maybe not.)

The map hadn't covered the basement and they'd been informed no clues would be found down there, so she had the pleasure of wandering around blindly. She prayed the basement didn't extend the length of the house, because the thought of winding through endless more rooms and corridors was so far from appealing that she inadvertently moved backwards, as if in preemptive protest, and nearly tripped over the bottom step of the staircase.

There was no fuse box in the large main room which meant she had no choice but to venture further. It was quiet, perhaps unnaturally so, and the light from her phone against the random items cast wavering shadows around the room that made it seem as if she weren't alone. She began to regret her decision to go down there by herself. At the least, she probably should have told someone where she was going.

There was a wall on her left with several closed doors along it. The first one opened to a small storage room filled with so many boxes that she couldn't step inside if she'd wanted to. She moved on to the next door, pulling it open as a wave of cool air rushed at her and she heard a distant slam that had her whirling around. She held her breath and listened for several seconds, relaxing when she heard no footsteps or any other indication she wasn't alone. The draft must have slammed the door to the basement (and that was the _only_ explanation she was willing to entertain).

This second room was enormous, spreading out into blackness so unending that the light from her phone couldn't even reach the wall on the other side. She forced herself to explore further and found nothing much of value. The room was filled with more junk and on the other side was a locked doorway partially hidden behind a bookshelf and a sofa. She had no desire to try and force it open. She hoped that the fuse box would be more accessible than to be behind a locked door.

She carefully retraced her steps out of the room, waving the light around repeatedly to reassure herself nothing had changed. She kept seeing things move out of the corner of her eye, but every time she turned, nothing was there. It had to be an illusory effect of the darkness – and a mild side effect of paranoia – because what else could explain it? There was no one down there except her, nothing could harm her, she just had to find –

Loud scuffling and a thud from back near the stairs had her pressing back against the wall as her heart rate shot up from the adrenaline rush. Blood roared in her ears and she couldn't hear anything else as she held her phone out in front of her, using the light as a shield against whatever had made that noise. Nothing rushed her, no other sounds came from that direction, and she deliberately slowed her breathing in order to relax faster than if she waited for her body to do it on its own.

She must have stood there, silently unmoving, for a solid thirty seconds before she heard a clink so faint that she honestly wasn't sure if she'd imagined it or not.

"Something fell," she said into the dark, with a confidence she didn't feel. "That's all it could be."

She stepped hesitantly toward the corner where she'd heard the noise and sure enough, a box of linens laid haphazardly on the floor, sheets and towels spilling everywhere. The light from her phone caught the edge of a shimmering object under one of the pillowcases and she picked it up. It was a chain connected to a silver heart locket engraved with the initials 'EDM'. None of the characters in their game had those initials.

She opened it to find a picture of a woman and child, along with the inscription, 'You are my heart'. If the necklace was made of real silver, Nell estimated its worth at a few hundred dollars. However, something that personal surely had more sentimental than monetary value. She fiddled with the clasp, which was loose, and managed to get it shut again. Maybe it had slipped off someone, perhaps a guest exploring where they shouldn't?

She briefly considered dropping the locket onto one of the shelves and leaving it there, except the idea of tossing it aside didn't seem right. She'd ask the staff about it tomorrow and keep it until then. Her pajamas had no pockets, so she absentmindedly slipped the necklace over her head. She instantly felt a little warmer than before, an odd sensation that she attributed to doing a good deed for someone else.

Unfortunately, the fleeting warmth reminded her of how cold she was, and she hurried to right the box and clean up the linens as if on auto-pilot. She decided to blame the draft and the reverberations of the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut, as one or both of those things must have upset the precariously placed box. _But it fell like ten minutes later,_ her traitorous mind whispered.

"Stop it," she scolded herself. "Improbable doesn't mean impossible." She moved to the third door with a haste she'd been lacking earlier due to caution. After being startled once, she could only imagine that continuing to take her time would lead to greater chances of a repeat occurrence. Her main priority now was to finish as soon as possible. Luck was on her side, too, because in the third room was a glorious sight – she'd never been more thrilled to see a fuse box in her life, and doubted she ever would be again. A couple switches had been flipped; hopefully they included the ones for her room and the basement. She reset them and was rewarded when the overhead bulbs came back to life, bathing the rooms in pale orange light.

Nearly giddy at having successfully fixed the lights and being done with the basement, she ran up the stairs in a mad dash, promptly slamming into a closed door that wouldn't move.

Her first reaction was irritation, followed by anger. After a few useless shoves, she felt the first stirrings of panic mixed with fear. She pushed as hard as she felt comfortable, afraid to work up enough force to throw herself at the door since she knew she could easily bounce off of it and end up on the basement floor. She could imagine going back to work with that story: ' _How did I hurt myself, you ask? In pursuit of a terrorist? No, no…I ricocheted off a closed door and fell down a staircase_ '. She'd never hear the end of it.

Maybe even her full strength wouldn't have been enough, though, because the draft had pulled it shut with such force that it felt completely sealed. She gave in to any last semblance of pride and started banging on the door while yelling for help. Five minutes passed, then ten. No one was coming. They were too far away to hear her.

And that was the perfect ending to her first day, wasn't it?

She held up her phone. No service. That meant she had to suck it up and find her own way out. She was trained. Maybe not to get out of basements, per se, but definitely to get out of tight spots.

The light may have erased any lingering doubts about what might or might not be hiding in the basement, but it also reminded her that she was well and truly alone (which for some reason was almost as bad as being down there with someone she didn't know). She went back downstairs with the utmost reluctance and made her way to the fourth and last door along the wall. It opened to a room filled with lawn and gardening equipment that probably hadn't been used in years considering how degraded much of it seemed. A short set of stairs at the back of the room led to a bulkhead that was padlocked from the inside with a chain. Based on the amount of dirt and grime, she doubted anyone had undone the lock in years.

There were two options: try to break through the half-hidden locked door in the second room or try to get out through the bulkhead. According to the map, there were no other access points to the basement, so the mysterious door was probably a futile endeavor unless she got lucky enough to find a secret passage or hidden stairwell. Picking the lock on the bulkhead also had its own problems. Assuming she could get out, she'd still be locked outside and would probably have to enlist Davis's help to reenter the hotel. She didn't think the man was a threat, but he was definitely strange, and she didn't relish the thought of waking him up at midnight to help her. He'd probably make her sign something that said she'd pay for a new padlock (and any 'damage' she'd done to his precious house) before he let her back in.

Nell wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Standing around in 50-something temperatures while wearing only her fairly thin pajamas was not conducive to comfort. She absently clasped the locket around her neck and knew it had to be her imagination when she felt warm again. At that moment, the solution hit her: she could control the electricity for the _entire house_.

She returned to the fuse box and flipped off every switch with a sort of vicious satisfaction. She only hoped someone upstairs was awake and noticed the loss of power, because if they all slept through it, she was in for a very long, dark, and miserable wait.

 **XXXXXX**

It was nearing midnight and Callen was about to turn in when everything went dark and silent. He left his room to confirm the entire house had lost power. He didn't know what would be worse – if this was another part of the game or if the house just had faulty wiring.

After a minute, he started hearing the distant complaints of his fellow team members. Sam emerged from his room with a flashlight, shining it in Callen's face and then shifting away before his partner could take it from him in retaliation.

"I think we lost power," Sam remarked.

Callen stared at him. "You think?"

Sam ignored his partner's sarcasm. "Hopefully it's just the breakers and not that the entire area's out."

Eric approached from the other direction with a map of the house in his hands. "I got this, guys. The circuit breakers should be in the basement. Which is…" he started spinning around, then stopped and spun the map around. "That way." He pointed to the front of the house. "Or that way." He pointed to the back.

Callen grabbed the map. "I'll take that, thanks."

Sam offered up his flashlight. "Here you go."

"I guess we've decided I'm going down there?"

"Watch out for unhappy spirits, Callen," Deeks warned from his own doorway, across the balcony. "They can sneak up when you least expect it."

Callen didn't respond to Deeks' brand of lunacy, too preoccupied with scanning the hallways around him. He'd registered the continuing absence of Nell since he left his room and walked over to her door, shining the flashlight around her room. Empty. The bathroom door was open, showing it to be equally vacant.

He rejoined his chattering team where they stood at the balustrade, paying them no attention as he leaned over the railing to call Nell's name. Everyone instantly shut up, waiting for a response that didn't come. "Where is she?" Callen demanded, as they all shrugged, no one having seen her since earlier when she'd been in his room. They joined him in yelling her name a few more times and were only met with silence.

"Maybe she went downstairs," Kensi suggested.

"We _just_ lost power and I came out here right when it happened," Callen told her. "She can't have gotten by me." Faint unease began to grow at her conspicuous absence. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the basement when he should be searching for her, but searching wasn't that easy when they were looking around a house without power.

"I'm sure she's here somewhere," Sam said. "She probably went exploring and got turned around, then the lights went out and she became disoriented. Or lost."

"Maybe she's the 'killer' and she's off setting up something for tomorrow with Davis," Eric guessed. "Or she's planning something with Hetty and Granger, since I don't see them out here."

Callen found it highly unlikely Nell would be doing anything with _any_ of those three people in the middle of the night, never mind planning things for the next day because she was the killer in the game. Mostly, he didn't think that she'd ignore everyone when she heard them calling for her. She wouldn't do that to him – them – would she?

He refused to waste any more time on useless speculation. "I'm going to turn the power back on. Kensi and Deeks, look around up here and then check the third floor. Sam and Eric, search the first floor. No one goes to bed until we find her." It wasn't a request, it was an order, and the others went to get their own flashlights and phones. Sam lingered, eyes fixing on what he could make of his partner's expression in the light afforded by their flashlights.

"Go on," Sam told him, "I have to wait for Eric. I'm sure she's fine, G."

"She better be," he agreed, tone bordering on ominous. He jogged down the stairs and wound his way through the dark hallways, occasionally calling Nell's name as he went. Every time he heard nothing in return, his heart sank a little bit further.

It figured that when he finally reached the basement door it wouldn't open. What was _with_ this place? He set the flashlight down to illuminate the hallway as much as possible and then pulled on the door as hard as he could. On his third attempt, he won against the door (which was probably for the best since he was about a minute away from finding an axe to break it down). He eyed the stairs in front of him and loudly announced, "If this is part of the game, Granger, I swear I'm resigning. Wait, you'd like that too much, so I swear I'm _never_ resigning! I'll be working from a retirement home and –"

Someone ( _something_?) came flying up the stairs at him and he stepped aside at the last second. Without much conscience thought, he recognized it was a person smaller than him and instinctively held an arm out to prevent them from crashing full speed into the wall behind where he'd been standing.

In hindsight, Nell knew it had been a bad move to go charging upstairs without identifying herself, especially in the dark. Obviously Callen had no idea who she was and she barely had time to register that he'd saved her from a painful run-in with the wall before he'd spun her around and pinned her against said wall. It might have been inconvenient, but it was better than a roundhouse kick to send her back down the stairs (she was thankful for the small things).

"It's me," she tried, "your co-worker?" She was slightly out of breath from her sprint and he was looking at her like he'd never seen her before.

"My co-worker," he said flatly. Of all the things she was to him, _that_ was what she went with?

In case the house was causing him to have some kind of dissociative break from reality, she gave him another clue: "You might remember me from the last 260 weeks at NCIS."

His laughter was somewhat strangled as the tension in him dissipated before it had a chance to spiral out of control. The relief at finding her was so heady and overwhelming that it stunned him and he wasn't sure where to begin. "Are you trying to kill me?" He didn't know if he was referring to her disappearing on them or running up from the basement.

"I was in a hurry to get out of there," she admitted. She hadn't really been thinking of anything else.

"Nell, I was standing at the top of the stairs thinking Deeks' theories about ghosts weren't that far-fetched. My actual last thought could have been _Deeks was right_."

She grimaced at the horror in his voice. "At least he'd never have the satisfaction of knowing it. So there's a bright side."

His relief slowly gave way to aggravation as he wondered what she could have possibly been thinking. "Whatever possessed you to disappear on us? Do you have _any idea_ –" he stopped, turning away from her to pick up the flashlight because he wasn't sure where he was going with that sentence and his words had come out far harsher than he'd intended, leftover worry transforming too easily into anger.

She scowled at him in annoyance, becoming even _more_ annoyed when he didn't see it because he wasn't looking at her. "You know how much I love to wander around strange places in the middle of the night," she said, turning up the sarcasm as high as she could go, "especially cold basements when I'm barely wearing enough to keep me from getting hypothermia." Sure she was exaggerating, but come on, hadn't she earned a little sympathy?

Apparently not. "Which brings me back to my first question," his words were clipped in a way that meant he was trying to control his anger, "what were you thinking?"

"I was _thinking_ that I was going to turn the lights back on."

"You're going to lie to me on top of everything?" There was an increasing chill in his voice that had nothing to do with the temperature.

"I'm lying? About what?" She felt like she'd stepped into an entirely different conversation; she had no idea what he was talking about.

He waved the flashlight around haphazardly, light arcing everywhere. "The power only went out fifteen minutes ago. We both know you were down here before that. Is this part of the game? Are _you_ the one who turned it off?"

Right. He didn't know she'd lost power first. "I had to turn it off –"

"I don't care what you do in terms of the game, but to deliberately make us worry about you is reprehensible, Nell. How are we supposed to trust each other if you do this kind of thing to me – to everyone? I expect more from you." His words stung enough that she actually reeled back from him.

In the past five years of knowing him, she'd seen how he reacted to virtually every situation possible. She'd seen what he did when he was upset, or furious, or betrayed – at times she'd seen him deal with all three at once. What she'd _never_ seen was those emotions directed toward her. She knew he'd taken her initial words as an admission of guilt, cutting her off before she could explain. She wasn't angry at the injustice of it, she was simply _hurt_ that he'd think her so callously uncaring about everyone that she'd willingly let them think she was missing (or worse) in order to win a stupid game.

Perhaps the worst part was something he hadn't touched upon, though: the punishing thought at the back of her mind that she should have known better. She should have been able to foresee the kind of situation she might be getting into. Failing that, she should have been able to get out of it on her own. How many times had Callen or the others been able to extricate themselves from seemingly impossible situations? She could argue she'd saved herself, in a way, except her method also required _someone else_ to come free her. If she'd been alone, or the others had all been sleeping, or any other number of potential scenarios, she might well have been facing an entire night alone in the basement.

"The lights went out in my room first," she said, pressing her hands into her eyes and telling herself the unusual heaviness was from being tired, _not_ the inexplicable urge to cry. "I came downstairs and fixed them. Then I couldn't get the basement door open again, so I turned off the power to get someone's attention. It had nothing to do with the game."

He'd already regretted what he said, and that was _before_ she explained what happened. "Nell –"

She backed away. "I'm going upstairs."

"But…you're fine?"

At his hesitant question she almost went back, except it was too easy to convince herself of the dismissal in his words. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He refrained from telling her how fine she _didn't_ sound. "Forgetting something?" he joked in an attempt at levity, shining his flashlight at her and then back to the stairs.

He couldn't be serious – he expected her to go back down there? "Third door on the left," she snapped before stalking away. That was another terrible decision, because she hadn't taken the time to turn her flashlight app back on and when she turned at the end of the hall, she walked right into the sharp corner of a table. She gasped in pain and then bit her lip to stop any curses, or maybe a potential breakdown. She ran a hand over her side, not having to see it to know it was going to leave a terrible bruise. The mere brush of her hand hurt and she sighed wearily. Yet another injury to add to her list. Was the house out to get the others this much or was it only her?

She turned the flashlight app back on, and during her long walk through the eerily quiet house, she was able to work herself into a good bout of self-pity. She was cold and angry and upset, and now got to add pain to that list. She'd also been scared down in the basement and was trying her best to forget about the dread she'd felt at the thought of not being able to escape. The worst part was that none of those things were causing her current emotional upheaval; that was solely due to Callen's attitude toward her. And yes, admitting that made her feel pretty pathetic. But was it asking too much for him to care, at least a little bit? Instead she got a reminder of how disappointed he was, and no matter how much she'd brought his reaction upon herself through her own choices, she'd never known anyone else who could cause her to feel as disappointed in herself as he did.

Every time she ran over the events of the past few hours, they seemed worse than before. Who the hell got themselves stuck in a basement? Especially someone who was a member of one of the best special teams in NCIS? It bordered on humiliating, actually, and maybe she was being too hard on herself, but the fact was she'd decided to go off alone, chosen not to tell anyone about it, and then nearly been trapped with no way out. She couldn't blame anyone else for what had happened to her – it was entirely her own fault.

All she could do was explain things to Callen in the morning, hopefully in a way that made sense and didn't leave her feeling more inept than she already did.

 **XXXXXX**

One thought ran over and over through Callen's mind as he searched the basement and found the breakers.

Nell.

After he restored power, he checked the entire basement, finding the other two locked doors Nell must have. Instead of wasting time trying to get through them, she'd simply turned off the power to the whole house – the easiest way to get help. It was smart and he expected no less of her.

The more he thought about his knee-jerk reaction to finding her, the guiltier he felt. He'd handled things in the worst possible way, blaming her and then going above and beyond to accuse her of doing it on purpose. He knew she had every right to be upset with him – he was upset with himself.

He hadn't bothered telling her how sick with worry he'd been thinking about what might have caused her to go missing. Maybe that would have allowed her to better understand his thought process…not that it was any excuse for how he'd treated her.

He kept thinking of what it must have been like for her in the basement alone. He'd seen more than his share of terrible spots, and maybe getting trapped in a basement was on the higher end of that scale, comfort-wise, but it still had the fundamental element of feeling trapped. And Callen definitely knew what it felt like to be trapped. Earlier in the study hadn't even begun to touch it, since they'd known they could go out the windows or break down the door if necessary. That was more a matter of waiting things out. But being alone in a room with no quick exit, even in an emergency? _That_ could cause real terror.

As he went back upstairs, he had to talk himself out of calling the owners and berating them. Forget annoyances, it was a truly life-threatening hazard if someone got trapped down there while they were in the house alone. A quick threat about an unexpected government inspection should get it fixed in no time – and that was if he was feeling charitable enough to not shut the hotel down completely.

Sam caught him on the landing and he took a few minutes to explain what had happened.

"Unacceptable," Sam said, shaking his head. As if reading his partner's mind, he added, "They'll be hearing about this."

Callen gave him a look to indicate it went without saying. Deeks and Kensi appeared before he could leave and demanded the story – as if it were really a 'story'. He repeated it for a second time and once he'd escaped their (well-intentioned) clutches, he debated whether or not to talk to Nell. He decided that even if she was awake, she surely wouldn't want to see him right then. He'd wait until the morning to apologize.

There was enough light from the moon outside that he could faintly discern the layout of his room as he went over to the bed. He had no memory of leaving the covers bunched up and was about to pull them back when he saw they were covering something – or rather, someone. Nell. Sound asleep on what should be his side of the bed.

He turned around in a circle, confused. Was he in the right place? He left to reorient himself in the hallway – yes, that was Sam's room on the left and the two rooms on the right belonged to Nell and Kensi.

He stepped back into his room and tried to figure out what was going on. Had Nell come to talk to him? Maybe there was something wrong with her room, or maybe she wanted to clear the air from their fight earlier. Or what if it was something worse? Maybe getting stuck downstairs had really shaken her and she'd wanted to talk about it, or at the very least, not sleep alone.

Should he wake her up to talk to her? Or send her away? The latter seemed pretty harsh if she'd come looking for some kind of comfort. And truthfully, he didn't mind her presence in the slightest. In fact, he liked the idea (more than made sense) that she would turn to him if she needed something, and not one of the others. He only wished he knew what had brought her there.

He made up his mind and got into the other side of the bed. He knew the house was a bit drafty and on the cool side, but he would have guessed they were in the arctic from how she was bundled under the covers. Then it hit him – the remark he hadn't paid much attention to earlier about how cold the basement had been and how her clothes weren't much protection from it. Of course he'd glossed right over that in his hurry to accuse her of plotting against everyone and then made a joke about her going _back down there_ to turn the lights back on. God, she must have thought he was a bastard (not much of a change from usual, then?).

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to determine if the quiet breathing of the woman next to him was unwelcome. He knew he could go to any of the other empty rooms to sleep in if he'd rather be alone, and yet…there was something different now. It took him a little while to realize he was feeling the desire to _not_ be alone and it was significantly different from how he usually felt outside of work. He kept his personal relationships casual and though he cared deeply about everyone on his team, he maintained a certain distance from them, as well. He'd even _liked_ the freedom that distance gave him. It had worked for a long time, and then one day…it hadn't worked anymore

He couldn't deny that it had to do with Nell. He came up with excuses to visit her during the day. He asked for her help on work projects instead of trudging through them alone. He stayed longer at work to spend time with her if she was staying late to finish up paperwork. Basically, he wanted to spend time with her in whatever capacity he could. He hadn't let himself think too hard about what that meant, and if there was ever a good time to start, it definitely wasn't in the middle of a training weekend with their fellow team members constantly harassing them and their bosses critiquing their every move – and it sure as _hell_ wasn't when she was sleeping three feet away from him. (Though she was the one in _his_ bed, so maybe they equaled each other with their lack of professionalism lately.)

He'd told himself, for a long time, that it was better to avoid serious relationships so other people wouldn't get hurt. He was saving them pain in the long run when he inevitably had to end things because they got too serious, or complicated, or dangerous. There were times when he'd consciously chosen to forgo the possibility of a relationship because he knew it would eventually have to end. While he thought he did it for the benefit of others, he was beginning to think he'd been in denial. Maybe he'd mostly done it for himself.

And maybe he didn't want to do it anymore, because if the choice came down to being alone or being with Nell, he'd always choose her.

 **XXXXXX**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** As a semi-warning, without giving too much away, this chapter starts out dark for Nell. You should be able to determine pretty quickly if this might disturb you, and if so, please just skip to the end, or skip this chapter entirely. As always, thanks for the feedback, I hope that you all know how much it keeps me going. :)

 **XXXXXX**

Nell blinked herself awake and instantly knew that it was the middle of the night – she could barely make out anything. It took a few seconds to remember she wasn't at home and she was subsequently flooded with memories of the day before. She quickly brushed the thoughts aside, deeming them too embarrassing to dwell upon. _Pretend it never happened_. That was her motto, perhaps for the entire weekend.

She stretched and rolled over, hitting what had to be a wall of pillows or blankets. She moved closer, pulling her hands up under her chin and musing over possibilities for who the killer might be in their game. She was just settling back into sleep when she felt the bedding shift next to her and _Nell stopped breathing_.

There was a person under the blankets, and amidst a sudden burst of panic, her first instinct was to either attack or start screaming. Thankfully reason clamped down, momentarily paralyzing her as she ran through a half dozen ways out of the situation.

Distance was her first thought. She needed to put space between her and whoever was next to her. She inched away as carefully as possible while running over the events of the previous night. All she remembered was getting into bed – had she been abducted? Maybe drugged? At that thought, she was so close to screaming that she pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle any sound. She knew every member of her team would come running, but it would also wake up whoever was next to her and what if her friends weren't fast enough? What if she wasn't even in the same place as them anymore? It didn't take long to fatally shoot or stab another person – her odds might be better trying to escape on her own.

She was sure that the deafening sound of her heartbeat would wake up the other person. She managed to put a couple feet between them as she edged toward the side of the bed. That was when he – at least she assumed it was a man – rolled over, closing the gap between them and throwing an arm across her middle. She held her breath, biting back the visceral need to move, yell, _escape_.

Once she was sure he hadn't actually awoken, she stretched an arm out to search the bedside table for anything she could use as a weapon. All she could reach was the locket she'd dropped there the night before, which served to confirm that she was still in her room.

Her heart sank as she realized she'd have to do this herself, without any real plan, or at least any plan guaranteed to work. She could only hope for the best. And by 'best' she basically meant 'any outcome where she lived'.

She fought back the fear, gathered up her courage, and tried one last attempt at moving away. He must have sensed it, though, since the arm around her waist only gripped her tighter. She wasn't going anywhere unless he let go or she fought her way free. And both options meant he'd be awake.

She'd been in plenty of awful situations (most not having anything to do with herself in danger, but one of her team, which was worse in its own terrible way), but she could honestly say that nothing had ever compared to waking up in a pitch black room next to a stranger, even if he was sleeping…though what if he was only pretending to sleep? She had no way of knowing the truth. What if he'd been awake _this whole time_ –

The thought that she might be patiently lying next to a sociopath who enjoyed mentally torturing her was what spurred her into action. She tried to twist away in a violent motion that had to have woken him (if he'd truly been asleep) and the arm over her disappeared. For a brief moment she thought she was free and tried to throw herself off the bed, except he'd grabbed one of her arms and used a leg to pin her lower body. And she'd thought it was bad when she couldn't move out of fear – that didn't compare in _any way_ to her panic at being held in place. Her eyes weren't adjusting to the darkness, so she had to rely on her other senses, muddled as they were by her terror. She felt him leaning over her and took her shot to lash out with her free hand, trying to cause as much pain as possible. What did they say? Go for the eyes? Not much use since she couldn't see a damn thing, so she flailed about hoping she'd connect and stun him enough that she could get away. She thought she heard him say something and couldn't quite hear it over the roaring in her ears. She tried to scream and failed; she couldn't scream, she couldn't _speak_. It was as if her voice had been stolen.

She'd also vastly underestimated whoever was in bed with her, since she only managed one hit to the face (lucky, she had to admit) before he pinned her other arm to the mattress, too. She couldn't move in any direction with him on top of her and she still couldn't scream, only managing to gasp "Callen" in a strangled whisper he'd never be able to hear in the next room over. It was the very manifestation of a recurring nightmare – trying to scream with no sound, knowing that nearby help would never come.

The figure above her let up slightly and then he laughed a bit and said, "I must have really pissed you off earlier."

The tangled nightmare vision she'd painted in her mind vanished and everything fit into place. _Callen_. The man in bed with her was no stranger. She stopped struggling, ceased moving entirely, and inexplicably felt as if she might fall over even though she was lying down. It was a wondrous thing to go from panic-stricken fear for her life to the insane relief she felt upon learning his identity; she'd never experienced anything like it.

She also recognized that it'd still be fairly normal to feel terrified; a man she knew and trusted was suddenly in bed with her, holding her down, and how many horror stories had started exactly that way? She had no fear, though, because he would never hurt her. It was an inherent fact of her world, as much as she knew her eye color or her own name. He could probably shoot her and she'd find some way to explain it as not being his fault. (Actually, that might be a bit unhealthy on her part, but it wasn't worth thinking about at the moment.)

With the benefit of hindsight, she knew she should have put it together sooner. What kind of attacker got into their chosen victim's bed only to fall asleep next to them? It hadn't made sense from the beginning, but her fear had overridden any logical capabilities and once she'd formed her initial conclusion that it was a stranger, she'd processed everything through that incorrect filter. It wasn't as if she and Callen had a habit of sleeping in each other's beds, either, but she could see him doing it out of some sense of duty or protection or whatever other reason he'd come up with for why he thought she needed him.

She had no idea she'd been repeating his name in some kind of inane, self-comforting manner until he tried to push himself up and away from her. Barely aware of what she was doing, she threw her newly released arms around his neck, stopping his escape with such abruptness that he would have fallen onto her if he hadn't caught himself in time.

He took a few moments to process the change before sitting up fully, abandoning his attempts to free himself in favor of pulling her along with him. She ended up half in his lap and he held onto her, easily reading how much she needed him. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. First had been shock at what he'd woken up to, then the terrifying realization that if he was under attack, Nell was in danger, too. Then came confusion at realizing Nell herself was the threat. He knew that something else was going on and that she didn't want to hurt him, specifically – the way she said his name with such desperation and the way the fight completely left her told him that. Had she been in the throes of a nightmare?

Her elation didn't last long as the adrenaline wore off and she processed what had happened. The situation she'd imagined might not have been real, but the terror sure had been, and its aftermath left her shaking. She pressed her face into his shoulder and had changed her mantra from his name to an endless repetition of the phrase: "I thought…I thought…"

He decided talking might snap her out of it and pushed her back by the shoulders. "Nell," he said firmly, with the hint of an order that got others to listen to him without fail. It worked with her, too, and he felt slightly bad when she stared at him with wide eyes he could barely see in the dark room. "What's going on?"

"I thought you were…someone else. I fell asleep alone. I had no idea who might be in bed with me and…"

He pieced together the sequence of events that must have occurred, though he was still confused. "If you didn't know who I was, why did you say my name?"

Her voice was a bit raspy, and it was only then that they both realized she'd been crying. She quickly wiped at her eyes and tried to clear her throat, to no avail. "I was calling you for help." She felt ashamed, knowing it had been a pretty weak attempt at getting anyone's attention. "I didn't know that you were the person with me. I thought that…"

He swore he felt his heart stop, not only at her tone, but at the way she couldn't voice the rest of the words aloud. They didn't have to be said, he knew where it was going, what anyone would think if they woke up to find a stranger in their room – _in bed_ with them. Even realizing she'd never been in any danger couldn't erase those few minutes of terror she'd felt.

She thought she might be attacked – maybe even die – and she called out for _him_?

He reached over, brushing his hand against her wrist, and she threw herself at him with such force that he had to grab the headboard to save them both from going backwards. She hugged him so fiercely that it almost hurt. He pressed his face into her hair and inhaled deeply, trying valiantly to not allow his mind to wander to a scenario where something like what she'd feared could actually happen. He was going to outfit her apartment with a new security system as soon as they got home. Maybe link it directly to his house and his phone. Or if he was going with all-out insane imaginings, he could just move her into his house directly.

She interrupted his crazy musings when she asked, voice slightly muffled by his shirt, "Um, I don't understand why you're in my room, though?"

How to break it to her…blunt honesty was best. "You're in my room."

"I am not," she insisted, moving away from him. He was reluctant to let her go, hand lingering on a few strands of her hair.

"Yes, you are. You were asleep in here when I came back upstairs. I assumed you wanted to talk and fell asleep waiting. I decided against waking you and went to bed."

His story was absurd…and exactly the kind of thing he'd do. If he thought she – or any of them – needed him, he'd never turn them away. He had to be mistaken about the room, though. "I'll prove it," she said, reaching over for the bedside lamp. Except it wasn't in the position she remembered (maybe because she was in a different room) and as she fumbled around for it, she hit the side of it with enough force to push it over the edge of the table. It toppled to the floor with a crash that rang unusually loud in the large house.

They both winced as Callen told her, "Now you've done it." All they could do was wait, and ten seconds later the door to their room burst open to reveal Sam standing there, ready to neutralize any threat.

"What was that? You okay, G?" He flipped the switch to turn on the overhead light and as the three of them shielded their eyes from the sudden brightness, Nell had time to register the brief flicker of surprise on Sam's face at finding the two of them together. Moreover, it was indeed Callen's room and there was no denying it now. Though the rooms were similarly furnished with set-ups identical enough to mistake in the dark, the color schemes were entirely different.

"We're fine, it was an accident," Callen reassured his partner. Deeks and Kensi were about fifteen seconds behind Sam, taking longer since they had to round the balcony. They crowded the doorway next to Sam, ready to save their friends if need be. Eric popped up behind them, frowning at the sight of Callen and Nell in bed together.

It didn't take Deeks long to attempt to ease the tension. "Whatcha getting up to in here, huh?" He looked pointedly at the broken lamp. "Getting a little carried away, are we?"

"Getting carried away trying to _turn on a light_ ," Nell said flatly.

"Mm-hmm," Deeks nodded. "Haven't heard that euphemism before, and I consider myself a worldly man."

"There's nothing going on," Callen insisted, which was a ridiculous statement considering that there was _a lot_ going on between him and Nell, most of which he couldn't have adequately explained if he'd tried.

"It was an accident," Nell tried futilely to explain, "I went to the wrong room."

"And once you saw it was the wrong room you decided to…get into bed?" Eric sounded as confused as Nell felt.

She sighed, thinking it was far too late for the impromptu interrogation. "I didn't know it wasn't my room when I got into bed."

"Completely believable, Nell," Deeks said, and she thought with naïve hopefulness that he was backing her up until he went on, "I know when I get into the wrong bed, I like to stay there all night."

"How many 'wrong beds' have you gotten into?" Kensi asked, suspiciously.

"Oh, you don't want to know."

She put her hands on her hips. "Actually, I think I do."

Sam took in the scene before him, the way Nell wasn't quite looking up as she rubbed her eyes and the way Callen was tapping his fingers on the back of her hand. She had been crying. And Callen was a particularly distinct sort of unhappy that Sam rarely saw. He had a few things he wanted to discuss with his partner, but not in front of an audience. "I'll let you two get back to…whatever this isn't," he said, backing out of the doorway. Eric followed him, muttering something about 'things he should never have to know'. Their exit conveniently left room for Hetty to take their place.

Nell covered her face with her hands as the older woman glanced at the broken lamp and then at her two agents for an uncomfortably long moment. "That's going on our tab, you know. Do try to be more careful, you two." She spun on her heel and left without another word.

Callen knew they couldn't be that lucky, and as if the universe were agreeing with him, Granger came over to see what was going on. Obviously he hadn't heard everyone yelling for Nell repeatedly a few hours earlier, but one broken lamp and some hushed conversation had him up and about.

"Callen. Jones." The assistant director's voice resounded like the crack of a whip and he was impressed when they didn't flinch.

"Sir." Deeks' voice was friendly enough, but his words held a bit of the chill that seemed to endlessly permeate the house. Granger had to smile slightly (and suppress rolling his eyes) when he saw Deeks and Kensi unconsciously step closer to him, as if physical intervention might be necessary (what, did they think he was going to leap in and physically separate Callen and Nell?). They were obviously ready to defend their friends at the slightest provocation and once again he had the recurring thought that the people on this team were attached to each other to a concerning degree. At times, he'd swear they might all be codependent.

Granger ignored problem couple #1 in favor of staring hard at the two agents in bed together. Callen and Jones. Good _God_ this team was trying to kill him. He supposed he should have given more credence to the whispers and rumors that went around work, but honestly, there were far too many about various people to keep track of. He tried not to think of the extra paperwork and explanations to superiors this would cause him. HR was already practically Deeks' and Kensi's personal therapist's office, so at this point, why did he even bother trying? Solely as a test, he asked, "Who wants to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

Kensi rocked back on her heels, hands tightening into fists. He sent her an arch look and she coolly returned it, refusing to back down. "There's nothing wrong here, at least that you could prove. No one's broken any rules."

"And if you thought they did," Deeks added, "discussing it in front of their co-workers would be a major breach of privacy, wouldn't it, sir?"

He knew from their expressions that they were expecting him to argue, to turn his ire to them instead of the other two, and that must have been their intention. "Well done, Blye. Deeks." He nodded in approval as they regarded him with mild astonishment. He might never truly understand the nature of their attachments to each other, but he could admit he envied their friendships. He also knew that if their team had each other's backs, even against him, they'd always be fine.

"It's not what it looks like," Callen drew his attention, repeating the time-tested excuse that everyone used when it was _exactly_ what it looked like.

"Would it matter if it were?" Granger asked, carefully.

Callen knew he could be flippant and write it off. Say something about how Granger couldn't control their lives, or turn it into a joke. However, he chose to answer in a manner as serious as the question that had been posed: "No."

That was the only answer Granger needed. If their team didn't let personal relationships interfere with cases, then he had no place trying to control them. In fact, they often performed worse when they were forcibly split or missing a member for any length of time. He'd come to realize over the years that instead of being a point of weakness, their attachments to each other were one of their greatest strengths. What else could explain the unusually long length of time they'd stayed together when it was fairly commonplace for people to be transferred and swapped with other teams as needed? He didn't bother explaining any of that at the moment; Deeks had been right that it wasn't the time or place. "We'll talk later."

"Yes, sir," Callen acknowledged. Granger waited for Nell to nod at him before leaving.

Nell felt tears prick at her eyes; maybe her tiredness was making her overly-sentimental. "Thank you," she told Deeks and Kensi. She couldn't be sure, but… "I think you might have swayed his opinion."

"I don't know about that. I think it was a test," Deeks countered. "You know how Granger loves his mind games."

"Whatever the case," Callen said, "we appreciate it."

"Not that there's anything going on," Kensi smirked. "Right?"

Callen rolled his eyes. "We were telling the truth, I swear it." He glanced at Deeks who appeared to be holding himself back. "I know you're dying to make a joke or some other ill-advised comment, so you might as well do it now when I'd literally have to jump over Nell to reach you."

Deeks tried his best to look innocent. "Who, me? I was only thinking that if you get lost on the way back to your room, Nell – you know, the room _right next door_ – Kens and I will gladly take you in."

Nell was grateful that he'd made her smile after the events of that night. "That's very thoughtful of you. Not a strange offer at all."

He whispered in aside, "It wouldn't be weird. You could sleep between us."

"So tempting."

"Alright," Kensi took his arm and pulled him a step out the door, "let's go before this gets inappropriate."

" _Before_?" Callen asked.

"We're right across the other side of the balcony," Deeks said, as Kensi pulled him backwards, "second door from the end."

"Good _night_ ," Callen said emphatically, the words somehow both a censure for their jokes and a thank you for their support. He also sounded slightly worried, as if Nell might take Deeks up on the (maybe?) facetious offer if he stuck around long enough.

Nell let herself fall back on the bed and covered her eyes with her arm. She had no idea which part of the night had been the most humiliating, and even better, the clock only read 2:07 AM. There were plenty of hours left before sunrise to continue screwing up her life in every possible way.

She listened to Callen pick up the broken pieces of the lamp. He flipped off the overhead light, bringing back the welcome darkness, and got into the other side of the bed. At least she wouldn't have to look at him when he kicked her out…because she was still in his room and _still_ _in his bed_. What was wrong with her, again?

She'd gone into his room before he got there (for all he knew, on purpose), forced him to share a bed with her, then nearly killed him – alright, tried to, at least – and then insisted _he_ was the one wrong, and in her determination to prove it, had unintentionally summoned forth their entire team and their _bosses_ who were now convinced the two of them were in a secret relationship, or at the very least, a torrid affair. (What she wouldn't give to be part of a torrid affair, actually, as it wasn't something she'd ever experienced and it sounded like a lot of fun…)

But that wasn't the point! The point was that she'd ruined Callen's night, and possibly his weekend, and possibly more than that. And then, when she should have slunk back to her room in utter defeat, she'd laid back down on his bed. As if she belonged there.

What in the hell could he possibly think of her, right then?

"So, Nell…" Callen began, edge of humor in his voice that her weary mind clung to with the fading hope that he wasn't furiously upset with her, "you gonna stay the night?"

She looked over at him; the moon had moved into a more favorable position outside the windows which meant she could see him more clearly than before. He was propped up on his elbow, watching her expectantly.

He was probably waiting for the lengthy apology she owed him before she left (and she knew that wouldn't be enough, already racking her mind to think of favors she could provide in the future to make up for this mess).

She looked at him helplessly. "I. Am. So. Sorry. I'm leaving."

"I don't know if that's wise."

Her confusion mixed with her exhaustion. "Huh?"

"Not that I'm admitting Deeks was right, of course, but he might have a point. What if you can't be trusted to get back to your own room?"

A horrifying thought struck her. "What if earlier, when I got turned around, I had stumbled into Granger's room?"

"There's no way you would have mistaken his coffin for a bed."

"Callen –"

"You know he had one specially delivered for the weekend."

"We've gone over this. He's not a vampire."

"That's what he always says whenever I accuse him – though obviously he'd deny it."

"He does like you, you know."

"Sure," Callen said agreeably, "our relationship has really improved from outright dislike and distrust to…mild dislike and distrust?"

"Like most relationships, you get out of it whatever you put into it."

He knew she wasn't trying to be accusing, or even philosophical, so why did her words feel like a warning? How come his most immediate thought was that if he didn't start caring more about his future – and who he wanted in it – he might end up as alone as he'd always imagined he would be? And he'd have only himself to blame.

When he didn't respond, Nell wondered if he disagreed with her, or maybe thought her presumptuous to try and give him relationship advice. Best to switch topics entirely. "I'm sorry for tonight. And yesterday. Let's forget both ever happened." (Even if the others would never let them, but she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.)

"You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who's sorry, Nell, for how I reacted when I found you downstairs. And then…" He didn't want to say it, the idea was so abhorrent, but he made himself: "You thought I might hurt you, might _kill you_. How are you fine right now?"

It was a good question, though it made her a little sad that he didn't know the answer. He must have no idea how she saw him, or the fact that she felt safer with him than anyone else. She'd even admitted that he'd been her first and only thought when trying to call out for help, and he still had no clue?

"You _are_ okay, right?" There was the slightest panic in his voice, and she realized he'd taken her silence as disagreement – that maybe he was wrong and she wasn't okay. "Nell –"

"Because it was you," she said.

"What?"

"I'm fine because it was _you_. I don't think I could say that, right now, if it had been anyone else."

Her admission had a strange effect on him, rendering him somewhat speechless. He trusted his team and he knew they trusted him, but to have someone openly declare that much faith in him…that was new, and it was different. He had no idea how to explain the way it made him feel, wondered if there was even a way to express it. Or maybe he was afraid of using the words he strongly suspected might apply. He settled for saying "I'm glad you're okay," and it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

Nell sat up and looked toward the door, knowing it was long past time she left. Yet no matter how much she tried to work up the motivation, she couldn't make herself do it. The thought of her cold, lonely room seemed particularly unwelcoming in the middle of the night, especially after being stuck in the basement earlier. Not to mention after she'd woken up and thought that…

"I can hear you thinking," he said. "Go to sleep."

She supposed his invitation was unsaid, but she felt the need to ask, "Here?"

"Here, your room, with Granger – if you're prepared to be turned into one of the undead," he said, lightly. "Whatever you want. I'm always in favor of whatever you want."

"Callen –"

"Here, Nell. Sleep here."

"Alright, alright," she said. "If you insist that badly, who am I to refuse?" She was hit by a pillow, and then another and – was he kidding? "You're throwing pillows at me?"

"Am I? I don't know anything about that, I'm only trying to fix this side for you. Come here."

She complied without thinking, shifting more toward his side of the bed, and he moved over her, taking the spot she'd previously been occupying. Of course he wanted the side near the door. "Maybe I sleep in the middle," she argued with him out of habit. "Maybe I sleep _sideways_."

"Hey, I didn't say you couldn't still sleep on my side. It's just that I'll be over here, too."

"That." She crossed her arms. "That right there is the kind of thing that makes people think we're hiding something."

"My comment was completely innocent," he protested. "I don't know what _you_ were imagin–" This time she was the one who hit him with a pillow.

"Nell, is it freezing in here?" he paused, presumably for dramatic effect, "because our marriage has grown cold."

"That's what happens when no one bothers telling us about it," she lamented; she was still annoyed with Granger and Hetty for failing to mention that part of their characters' histories. "Draw up the papers, I guess."

"Eight hours and done. I might be worse at pretend relationships than real ones," he muttered, as if he were having an epiphany. "How is that even possible? How have I surpassed _myself_?"

"Don't be too hard on yourself," she said glibly, "everyone knows it's easier to give up and try again with someone new."

Their entire conversation was an exaggerated role-play, more or less a joke, but her words had an uncomfortable ring of truth to them. That was how he'd always viewed relationships. Things got difficult? Move right along. And it didn't only apply to romantic ones either, he'd dropped plenty of friend and work relationships with similar haste. He couldn't ever imagine doing that to her.

Nell hoped his sudden silence didn't mean he was having some sort of existential crisis next to her. "Practice makes perfect, right? By marriage three or four, you should be an expert on what to do. Or more importantly, what not to do."

She was kidding, yet he still shuddered at the mere thought. "Don't be ridiculous, I couldn't get married that many times. After you, who could ever compare?"

She smiled slowly at the sentiment, impressed despite herself. "Okay, that was good. You're getting better at this."

"You get out of it what you put into it, right? I heard that from a friend once."

Nell thought he sounded suspiciously optimistic for someone who avoided relationships and commitment as if they were a plague invented solely to take his freedom. "You have some very smart friends."

Another minute passed and she heard him shifting the blankets around again. "You know, maybe it's not as cold in here as I thought."

"This is the warmest I've been since I got here," she agreed, and it went without saying that they weren't really talking about the room.

 **XXXXXX**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** This story has become much longer than I planned (and still has a ways to go) so thanks to everyone who has left feedback because you really keep me motivated! And thanks to all silent readers as well, I'm just glad to see you're out there, and I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

 **XXXXXX**

"Callen and Jones, this is your morning wake-up call!" Deeks shouted as he slammed his hand against their door twice on his way past.

Nell jolted upright from being awakened in the worst possible way and in her subsequent realization that she was completely, hopelessly entangled in sheets and a blanket, she jerked instinctively trying to get out of them (which obviously made it all the worse). She struggled angrily with the bedding, pulled too hard, and promptly fell off the bed.

"Nell?" Callen's head instantly appeared over the edge of the bed. Being tangled had somewhat broken her fall, though her arm and leg were still stuck. "Did you fall out of bed?"

He couldn't be serious. "No, I'm _still up there with you_."

He studied her, somewhat blearily, and she wondered if he was as slow at processing things in the morning as she was. Surely the abrupt wake-up had done neither of them any favors, though she found it amusing because it wasn't like him. She always knew him to be sharp, no matter the situation.

"Are you alright?"

"Do I look alright?" She yanked ineffectually at her arm and leg and neither budged, maybe because he was now lying on the bedding on her side. "No, I got this. Don't bother helping."

He disappeared and a moment later the sheets and blankets came off the side of the bed and landed on her, which though irritating did allow her to wrest her way free and spring to her feet as if she had definitely meant to do everything that had happened since she woke up. She gathered everything to toss back on the bed, then couldn't resist climbing back in and collapsing despite the fact that it was completely disheveled.

She didn't feel quite alive. How many hours of sleep had she gotten? Five, maybe six total? "Do you think they'd notice if –"

"Don't go back to sleep, now!" Deeks yelled from somewhere out in the hall.

"I'm going home," Nell muttered. "I'm getting in my car and driving home today."

Callen was lying on the other side of the bed, arm under his head as he contemplated the ceiling. "Then you'd miss me killing him, Nell. I'm thinking of how to get away with it. Could I blame…the ghosts?"

"Sounds reasonable. What time is it, anyway?"

"7:03."

"What?!" she yelled.

"Seven. Oh. Three," he said loudly, as if her question had been due to not hearing him correctly.

"Yes. He deserves to suffer."

Another sharp rap on the door was followed immediately by Deeks asking, "Everyone decent in there?"

"Do come in, Deeks," Callen called, and Deeks should have recognized that his tone was far too pleasant.

The second Deeks swung the door open, Callen picked up a book from the bedside table (where had that been last night when Nell was looking for a weapon to bludgeon him with?) and pretended to launch it at the detective's head. Deeks instinctively ducked and then slowly stood back up when he realized he was safe. For the moment. "Good morning to you, too."

"How are you _awake_ right now?" Callen asked.

"Rise with the sun, that's my motto. Also, when I'm woken up by such a beautiful woman as my partner –" he yelled that part over his shoulder, "– then it's damn near impossible to start my day miserable." They heard Kensi say something unintelligible from the other side of the balcony, followed by a distant door slamming.

When Callen and Nell merely stared at him, Deeks shrugged. "That was her agreeing."

"I'm going back to sleep." Nell pulled a pillow over her face even though she knew there was almost no hope for it.

Deeks took in the scene before him. "You two look equal parts exhausted, annoyed, and angry. Seems like a typical first night together to me."

Nell couldn't help laughing at that, muffled by the pillow. "Really?"

"What the hell happened to your bed? It's like a tornado came through here. Or is that question self-explanatory?"

Callen wished he had the energy to do something. Anything. But he didn't, so he had to settle for vague threats. "Keep talking."

Deeks had no idea what Callen might do to him, but it probably wouldn't be fun and there was a balcony right behind him that he could 'accidentally' go tumbling over at any point during the weekend. "I only wanted to tell you there's coffee in the kitchen. Breakfast's at eight. Thought you two might want time to get ready." He fled before his luck could run out.

Nell figured going back to sleep would only shift her suffering to a half hour later when they woke her up again. "Seriously, breakfast at eight? Who made the schedule?"

"Granger, our resident sadist," Callen supplied.

Nell got to her feet and swayed, grabbing one of the bed posts to steady herself. "I'm good," she said, in answer to Callen's silent question. She let go of the bed slowly, feeling quite proud of herself when she didn't tip over or fall to the floor.

"Gravity doesn't beat Nell Jones today," Callen said, applauding in a mocking gesture. "You know, aside from when you fell off the bed. Like a four-year-old."

"Shut up," she snapped, kicking the bed. "I'm going to get some coffee. Wish me luck that I don't fall unconscious on a couch or collapse in a corner somewhere."

He watched her stumble out of the room. He already knew she wasn't the best morning person, though he'd never suspected it might be that bad. He wasn't the happiest himself, but he forced his way through it by reminding himself the discomfort of waking up was only temporary – although, considering the night they'd had, today it might linger.

By the time he finished showering and getting dressed, Nell still hadn't come back. He let that thought ruminate for a moment since there was no good reason to expect her back. Her belongings were in her room and it wasn't like they had to do things together just because…they always did things together. Damn it.

He was about to leave when she returned with two cups of coffee. "I might have fallen asleep at the kitchen table while waiting for Sam to make his own coffee. He was cheerful and smiling. Smiling! Who can smile before eight in the morning?" Callen smiled at her as she pushed a mug into his hands. "Stop that. I know you're doing it out of spite."

"Maybe your presence is so delightful that I can't help myself."

She sat on the loveseat and held the mug between her hands. Callen tossed her a blanket from the bed which she took gratefully and wrapped herself up as much as she could. It was a chilly morning and her pajamas were no more insulating than they'd been the night before.

Callen sat in a chair across from her and let her wake up a little more before interrupting their comfortable silence. "It's a good thing you came back because I didn't want to go to breakfast without you."

"That's…thoughtful?"

"I need to use you as a shield when they start bombarding us with questions about last night."

She frowned at him over her coffee. "Less thoughtful."

"I can't believe you're breaking the rules."

Her look indicated she was at a loss.

"No food or drinks in the bedrooms. In fact, no food or drinks anywhere except the kitchen and dining areas." He might as well have been speaking Russian for all the reaction he got.

"Stop making things up."

He grabbed the packet from the bureau where he'd dropped it the night before. He flipped through the main guidebook for the house and then sat down next to her. Sure enough, rule 47: no food or drinks in the rooms.

She grabbed it from his hands. "How did I miss that one?" She sounded guilty enough that he felt bad teasing her for it – though not enough to stop.

"Let's hope Davis doesn't walk by."

"I think we're responsible enough not to…" she had to think about that. She had, after all, gotten stuck in the basement and ended up in his room and then tried to hurt him and then broken that lamp and he had his own share of the blame in everything, somehow. (Alright, maybe not, but it made her feel better to pretend.)

"Are we that responsible?" he challenged, as if reading her thoughts. "This rug is beautiful. It'd be a shame if I ruined it by spilling my coffee." He deliberately held out his mug and started precariously tipping it one way and then the other.

"Stop!" She reached out to grab his arm, causing the coffee in her own cup to splash around.

"Told you." He took a sip and regarded her seriously. "Forget responsible. We're bordering on reckless, Nell."

She considered the words in a way he most certainly couldn't have meant them. Or maybe he did. Sometimes she could practically hear his thoughts in her head; other times, it was as if he were a complete stranger. (She didn't like the other times.) "I don't do reckless."

He leaned back against the couch, watching her over the top of his cup. "Don't you?"

She had the distinct feeling she was being baited. And she wasn't going to fall for it. "I have to shower," she said, setting down her mug. Instead of going back to her room, as he'd expected, she went into the bathroom off his room and shut the door. She'd never retrieved any of her things, which meant she must be in there using _his_ things. He didn't mind that, though he found it…interesting that she wouldn't care. He thought most women were more particular than that.

She was in there for over twenty minutes, and he took the time to remake the bed, retrieve her bag from her room, and then skim through Blackwell's journal for a while longer. When she opened the door and poked her head around, she didn't have time to ask him to get her bag before he was handing it over. "Thanks," she said, slightly surprised.

Another ten minutes later and she emerged looking much more like the Nell Jones he knew. Not entirely awake, but a far cry from the walking disaster she'd been an hour earlier. She wandered around doing various domestic things. Brushing her hair. Checking her phone. Applying some make-up in the mirror over the dresser. The only strange thing about having her there was that it didn't feel strange at all.

When she came over to retrieve her coffee from the end table, he caught the distinct smell of almonds lingering in her damp hair; that was his shampoo this month.

He'd never much cared about what he used – soap was soap and shampoo was shampoo. He bought things that were on sale and he only avoided the extravagantly feminine scents for one reason – his partner. He'd had to listen to Sam for weeks about how his faintly strawberry-scented aroma meant he _had_ to have a secret girlfriend he wasn't telling his partner about.

He'd never bothered explaining to Sam that it didn't matter what he used. He wasn't used to having _things_. It was hard to acquire any meaningful possessions when he was constantly shuffled from house to house as a kid. And he'd never had money, either. It wasn't hard to get used to a life where he stretched every penny and learned not to splurge on anything extravagant (the few nice things he'd ever had were promptly taken from him, if not by other kids, then by the adults who were supposed to be looking out for him).

So Sam had no idea that Callen had grabbed the cheapest bottle he'd seen that month out of ingrained habit. It was somehow easier to roll his eyes and brush off Sam's comments about a supposed girlfriend than to admit that aside from an automatic check of prices, he almost never put any thought into his purchases. That was, until he realized the (admittedly good-natured) grief he'd get, and now he avoided excessive fruits and florals.

The last time he'd gone shopping, the scent of almonds had seemed acceptable, and it was also the cheapest that week, so win-win. And now Nell smelled like almonds.

And maybe that was what he was always going to buy from now on.

"What time is it?" she asked, breaking him out of his thoughts (that she had no idea centered on her).

"Going on 8:30," he said. "Surprised they haven't sent a search party."

She inwardly groaned; she'd had no idea that much time had passed. "Great, we can make an entrance." Just what she wanted.

She turned to get her phone and accidentally bumped into the bureau. Callen was watching and saw her wince at the sudden pain. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said, as her hand went to her side, betraying her. She'd examined the injury briefly in the shower and couldn't say if it was her imagination or if the bruise was much worse than it had been the night before.

He didn't ask permission to brush her hand away and lift her shirt slightly. She heard his sharply indrawn breath as he examined the black and purple area roughly the size of her fist. "What happened to you?"

"It looks a lot worse than it feels." And actually, it felt pretty bad if she was thinking about it.

"Is this from falling out of bed? Or from last night?" He was upset, which she hadn't expected. "Don't tell me that I –"

"You need to stop taking on guilt that doesn't belong to you," she said, harsher than she'd intended. "I walked, or rather, kind of ran into a table downstairs when the lights were out."

He brushed his hand over the injury, applying virtually no pressure, and yet she still flinched. "It's like this house is targeting you."

She shivered. "Don't say that. It's a ridiculous thought."

"Fine, then you're clumsy and need to watch what you're doing." He also wanted to tell her that she shouldn't go anywhere alone from now on, but that was probably too excessive. And it wasn't like she'd listen to him anyway.

"I can take a few injuries. I'm tough."

"Coming from the woman who wanted to kill me last night, I don't doubt it."

Her mouth pressed into a thin line at those words and she left the room before he could ask her about it.

He followed her downstairs, chasing the distant sounds of happy chatter, clinking plates, and the smell of food. He couldn't make up his mind if it was enticing or repelling him. Once they made it to the dining room and he spotted the spread on the table, he had to go with enticement.

The conversation died away as they walked in and Nell came to a slow halt. They couldn't have been more conspicuous, could they? If their intent was to convince the others nothing was going on (and there wasn't!) then staying in bed together for Deeks to find them this morning and then showing up to breakfast 30 minutes late did nothing to help either of their cases.

Callen gripped her shoulders and pushed her forward. "Direct all observations, questions, and accusations to Nell. I am unavailable for comment."

He hadn't been kidding about that shield thing, then. She reached up to grip his right hand in warning, hard enough to hurt, and he relinquished his hold.

"Would you look at that, I'm suddenly available again." He flexed his hand and followed her to grab a plate.

The table was oversized to accommodate dozens of people, but there were only place settings at one end. A buffet of over a dozen trays of food was set up in the middle of the table. Kensi and Deeks were seated together and the only two free chairs were on either side of them.

"What am I thinking?" Deeks asked. "You two obviously want to sit next to each other." He hastily stood and made a big production of moving his breakfast to the other side of his partner, leaving two empty seats side by side.

He'd done it on purpose, had probably been waiting for that moment since breakfast began. Callen wondered if he'd been going about things all wrong. Maybe it was a better strategy to try and throw the other man off his game. (And if in the process Nell started to think how normal it seemed, well that could only be a benefit, right?)

"Thanks, Deeks. We do." Callen put his arm around Nell's shoulders as she contemplated her beverage choices. She had no idea what he was doing, though she knew there had to be an ulterior motive of some kind. She shot him a look of admonishment that Deeks missed because he'd inhaled his forkful of eggs.

Kensi didn't miss a beat in reaching over to slap her partner on the back. Hard. Repeatedly.

"I'm not choking, Kensi," Deeks managed to say after sipping his water.

"Oh. I know." His partner smiled and hit him a few more times for good measure.

"It's nice of you two to grace us with your presence," Granger said from the head of the table, directing the words mainly at Callen.

"It took us a little while to get ready," Nell tried to explain, avoiding their boss's eyes. What he must _think_ of them. "I mean…we had to shower." Her words washed over the room like ice water.

Eric waved a bagel at them in chastisement. "Please, we don't need details, Nell."

"Oh yes," Kensi said, staring at them raptly. "We do."

"We didn't shower together!" Nell exclaimed. "Agent Callen and I are friends. We had a long night and we spent it in the same room. As friends. We are here this morning. _As friends_."

"But are the two of you friends?" Eric asked sarcastically. "Because we're not quite clear on that point."

Nell went to grab a muffin, making sure to kick his chair on the way by. "I'm gonna go eat in the sun room. Get a start on –"

"No food in the rest of the house, _please_ ," Davis said from behind her, and she quickly spun around.

"Where did you come from? Have you been here this whole time?" Nell figured she was really losing it if she hadn't noticed him at all.

Eric took a sip of his juice. "You realize, Davis, that's an entirely unenforceable rule. How can you stop guests from…" he slowly trailed off at the increasing scowl on the older man's face. "I'm…kidding?"

"We wouldn't dream of breaking any of your dozens of rules," Hetty said, distracting Davis.

"Yeah," Granger put in, "if there's one thing this team excels at, it's following rules."

Callen sent their boss an amused look at the fact that he even tried anymore. "How did you sleep last night, sir?" he asked, pleasantly.

"Well enough," Granger said, a bit suspicious.

"Would you say…like the dead?"

Nell skipped a step in her walk over to one of the free chairs and shook her head at Callen as she sat down.

Before Granger could reply, Deeks spoke up. "Callen, is that a bruise on your face?"

"What?" Callen touched the area near his eye that Deeks was pointing to on his own face. It felt a little sore and he went to look in the mirror near the door (apparently they were a popular decoration in the house). Sure enough, with the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows of the dining room, he could make out a bruise near his right eye. Not exactly a black eye, but enough to tell he'd been injured. "I didn't see that earlier."

Nell looked on with growing horror – she remembered hitting him, though she hadn't known it was that hard. She'd actually _injured_ him. She was appalled at herself even though she hadn't known who he was. "I had no idea," she tried to explain.

"Way to go, Nell," Callen told her, sounding strangely proud. "I knew you had it in you."

Deeks was looking between them, adding up two and two to get five. "Wow, you two are _brutal_. It usually takes me a couple months to work up to that in bed!" He yelped and glared at his partner, leaning down to rub at his foot where Kensi had not so subtly pressed down with her shoe.

Thanks to Deeks' wrong assumption, everyone else came to the same conclusion and were regarding Callen and Nell with various expressions of astonishment.

And to think Nell had believed things couldn't get any worse after the night before – she'd been so wrong. Her first priority was apologizing to Callen. "I'm sorry, are you sure that's all I did to you?"

"Whoa, guys, take it down a notch," Deeks warned. "You're starting to make some of us feel inadequate."

Nell spared him a look. "It's not –"

"What it looks like, we get it," Eric said, clearly not believing a word of it. He dropped his bagel and pushed his chair back. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Breakfast isn't the time to discuss this," Granger said, with a hint of distaste, reminding Nell he was _right there_. "If there ever _is_ a time to discuss this, make sure it's when I'm not present. I beg of you."

"We're not discussing anything," Nell insisted, "because there's nothing to discuss." She turned to Callen, almost accusingly. "Are you going to help me?"

He was standing with his hands on the back of Eric's chair, apparently more amused at watching the reactions of his team than stepping in to correct them. "If I don't, are you going to hit me again?"

She knew it was a joke, though to her it didn't feel like one. She'd actually hurt him. Not seriously, but…they were supposed to trust each other and she'd hurt someone she cared about. It was all the more ironic because something happening to him, or any of them, was one of her greatest fears. So for her to have caused it, well…it bothered her in a way she'd never felt before.

"Callen." Nell hoped her tone conveyed exactly what he was supposed to do next.

He gave in, because although he found everyone's reactions highly entertaining, it wasn't his goal to cause her distress. "Nell's telling the truth. It was an accident. She thought I was going to murder her, so she attacked me in self-defense." He studied the basket of scones. "Are those all blueberry?"

No one answered him so he took one and studied it. Definitely blueberry. How disappointing.

If anything, his short explanation had made Kensi even more fascinated than before. "You attacked him, Nell?"

Nell hesitated, unsure how much she wanted to share. "I didn't think I had a choice."

Deeks abandoned any interest he had left in his breakfast. "You." He pointed at Nell with his knife. "Attacked him." He pointed at Callen. "In self-defense."

Callen nodded. Deeks had summed it up quite accurately. "Her actions were completely justified."

"You two…" Deeks tapped his knife on his plate. "I don't know."

Sam was unclear on one key point. "Why would you ever think he'd hurt you?" he asked Nell.

"I didn't know it was him," she said, rather unhappily. She didn't want to talk about it, and not just because of the memories, but because she'd injured him and that left her feeling sick. It had been an accident, but it had still been her intention at the time.

It seemed as if everyone started talking at once, both at each other and at her. She ignored them and gave up on trying to eat. Her appetite was completely gone.

Callen took the seat next to her and hooked a foot around the edge of her chair, pulling her closer so no one could hear him when he spoke. "I'm fine."

Of course he was fine. He was _always_ fine. If he wasn't, would he have told her? "Yeah, I know."

"What's bothering you?"

"I _hurt_ you." How was he okay with that? No, better question, how was he _happy_ about it?

"I told you, I'm fine. You've seen the kinds of things I've gone through, this is nothing."

She didn't need the reminder of how many times he'd nearly died. Those thoughts always left her cold in a way she had a hard time recovering from. She only knew of one way to get him to see her perspective. "Remember earlier when you thought you'd hurt me? How would you feel right now if that had been true?"

She finally met his eyes to find they'd darkened considerably. He started to speak and then stopped, saying nothing. He'd be hating himself right then, and they both knew it.

"Not pleasant, is it?" she muttered, pulling at the threads of her cotton napkin. "So yeah. That's how I'm feeling right now." _Like she'd hurt the most important person in her life._

After he'd gathered his thoughts, he spoke calmly, needing her to understand. "Okay. I get it. But you also have to acknowledge that neither of us knew the reality of the situation. From the moment you woke up last night thinking there was a stranger next to you, I had every advantage in nearly every way. You did what you should have done to try and protect yourself. I'm not upset with you, Nell. I'm…" he struggled for the right word, "…glad you were able to do what you did."

She dropped the napkin and glanced at him. "Really?"

"Really. In fact, I wish you'd done more. And you're certainly capable of it. If you want, I can help you with that. How to get the drop on someone in the middle of the night."

She shuddered at the potential circumstances under which she'd need that particular skill. "I don't want to ever have to use that."

"No one does, but better safe than sorry, right?" It was best to be prepared; he'd learned that many times over, too often in the hardest of ways.

She quietly thanked him and he responded by telling her to eat her breakfast. He didn't push her chair back to its rightful spot, and they both ignored the others who were pretending not to watch them.

Granger started explaining what the rest of the day would have in store. They were free to interview the staff and explore the house as they chose. "Hetty and I will be around all day. Remember that we're watching you."

"Please, sir. This house is terrifying enough as it is," Callen remarked.

"Yeah, we don't need the threats," Deeks added.

"I can't decide which one of you to follow first," Granger said, thoughtfully. "Wait, I know – you two can work together today."

"Look what you did," Deeks scowled at Callen. "I'm never going to win with you holding me back. I know you'll sabotage me on purpose."

Callen wondered how Deeks had determined his strategy so quickly – he needed to work on his subterfuge. "I'd never do that to you."

"I think I've inadvertently punished myself," Granger muttered as the two of them started bickering in earnest.

"Live and learn, Owen." Hetty sounded quite smug as she poured herself some more tea.

Nell touched the locket she'd slipped into her pocket before coming downstairs. Her first priority that morning was to find Audrey and turn it over, then she'd look for more clues in their game. Her gaze slid over to Callen and Deeks who were now arguing over which part of the house held their best shot at finding clues.

"Settle this for us, guys," Deeks implored. "I want to go to the third floor."

"That's pointless, most of the third floor is off limits. We're much better off exploring the main floor and bedrooms," Callen insisted.

"I don't care," Kensi voted.

"If possible, I care even less," Eric said.

"I think you should thoroughly explore all three floors," Sam said, as he took some more bacon from the tray. "That way the three of you can spend the entire day together,"

"Don't look at me," Nell said, "I'm planning to avoid both of you for the day." She grabbed a scone when Davis wasn't looking and slipped out of the room, leaving the echoes of their argument in the background.

 **XXXXXX**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN:** I just want to say all the inquiries I've gotten about this story have made me feel equal parts happy and guilty! I'm sorry for the slow updating, I have been trying to fit all the pieces of this together, so I stepped away from it. However, I _do_ finish everything I start, sometimes it just takes me longer than I'd like. Thanks to everyone who is still sticking with me!

 **XXXXXX**

In the daytime, the house lost whatever characteristics that had made it seem otherworldly at night. Most of the rooms had large windows that let in plenty of light and it seemed much more like the tourist-friendly, historical home that it was meant to be. Nell's comfort level slowly returned to normal, which was a welcome relief after wondering if the night before had completely killed her enthusiasm.

While wandering through the rooms (she had this irrational hope that a prominent clue would jump out at her from nowhere and let her solve Blackwell's murder with little effort), she finally came across Audrey in what seemed to be a sitting room, or perhaps a smaller version of the game room they'd found last night. At its center was a large table probably meant for card games or puzzles. Audrey was halfheartedly dusting some sideboard cupboards and she instantly perked up when she saw Nell, literally tossing the rag aside in her enthusiasm.

"Hi! How can I help you? Please give me a long list of things you need, I'm begging you."

"Anything's better than cleaning, right?" Nell asked, opening a few of the cabinets. Sure enough, they were filled with games and nothing else particularly interesting.

"You guessed it. I can only dust so many things before I get lost in a trance and you're the first person I've seen today besides my co-workers."

Nell took a seat at the table, running her hands over the polished oak. "I'm sure the rest of my team will be along soon enough to bother you. Could I request that you throw some of them off track?"

Audrey sat across from her, lowering her voice somewhat conspiratorially. "That might be what I'm supposed to do, anyway."

"Duly noted. You know, I admire your ability to play the same role week after week. Do you ever get tired of it?"

Audrey took Nell's friendly tone as invitation to be more open than she normally would have. It was rare that any of the guests questioned what she thought of her job and it was a welcome change from the usual barrage of questions demanding to know if evidence 'X' pointed to killer 'Y'. "It doesn't get too repetitive because we mix up the scenarios of who the killer is often enough, but this is a pretty slow weekend for us since you're such a small group. That means less to do for the guests and more upkeep for the house. That basically translates to a lot more house projects, especially with the recent renovations. Davis still doesn't let us clean anything valuable, but things like dusting or vacuuming, there's always plenty of that to go around. Needless to say, I enjoy it more when we're fully booked and I'm not stuck being…well, a maid." Her gaze shifted past Nell to the doorway behind her. "Hey…Callen, right?"

"At your service," he said, overly chivalrous as he bestowed upon her his most charming smile (Nell was amazed that he didn't bow). "Or are you at mine?"

"Oh, please," Nell's tone was the vocal equivalent of rolling her eyes. "You can tone it down. She's not going to tell you who did it, no matter how charming you _think_ you are."

"I don't know about that," Audrey countered, grinning at both of them. "I might be swayed. Is there anything in it for me?"

"What would it take?" Callen asked.

"What do you have to offer?" Audrey shot back.

Nell shook her head. It just figured. "If you solve this based on your innate ability to con the staff into talking, I'm outing you to everyone. Don't think that Granger won't happily take credit away from you."

Callen appeared offended – _appeared_ being the key word. "Are you insinuating that I'm not capable of solving this mystery based on detective work alone?"

Nell primly folded her hands on top of the table. "I'm not insinuating anything. I'm _saying_ that's what you're doing – trying to get her to tell you the answer."

"You'll have to forgive Nell," Callen told Audrey. "She's of a highly suspicious nature. To solve this weekend's mystery, she simply needs to work on her investigative techniques – the same techniques I mastered years ago."

Nell gripped her hands together tighter. "I need to _what_?"

"Work. On. Your. Investigative. Techniques," he repeated, slowly. "And your listening skills, apparently."

She'd yet to figure out how he could be so irritating and endearing at the same time. _That_ was probably what he'd spent years perfecting (forget his superb investigative skills or whatever). "You realize you're making a strong case for me to try and sabotage you, right?"

"She's not that great at losing, either," Callen whispered to Audrey.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Deeks and Granger?" Nell looked pointedly toward the door.

"Deeks is drawing up some kind of 'game plan' or something, I wasn't really paying attention, though I did catch that he wants me to meet him in the foyer soon."

"You could be helping him."

He made a show of taking a seat at the table next to her. "I sure could be."

"Oh, I really feel bad for Deeks today."

"Because I'm going to show him up?"

"No…that's not why."

"I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation, by the way." His words jarred Nell into realizing not only had she been staring at him, but she'd forgotten why she'd wanted to talk to Audrey in the first place.

She quickly turned back to the other woman, hoping she didn't seem too rattled, and pulled out the locket she'd been wondering about since the night before. "I found this and I was hoping you could return it to its rightful owner."

A strange look passed over Audrey's face as she reached out to take the necklace. She opened it to view the picture inside and inhaled a bit shakily. "Where did you find this?"

What to tell…what to tell – Nell decided to admit the truth. After all, Davis was only kidding when he'd talked about kicking them out…right? (She still felt strangely apprehensive.) "I found it in the basement. I know we're not supposed to go down there, but we had electrical issues last night – which I'm sure were part of the experience, right?"

"What?" Audrey sounded as if she weren't really listening, too fascinated by the locket.

Maybe it had been a real electrical problem, then. Or maybe Audrey was a better actress than Nell thought. Either way, Nell shrugged off the problem – old wiring and all that. "I went to check the circuit breakers and I found that on the floor."

Audrey held the locket up, as if to study it in better light. It twisted back and forth on its chain. "You found this in the basement. Last night."

Callen was hearing about this for the first time along with Audrey. Based on her odd reaction, he knew something was going on. "Is that yours?"

Audrey blinked at him a few times, as if remembering he was still in the room with them. "No. This belonged to my friend Eliza." She turned back to Nell. "Do you remember yesterday when I mentioned another girl who worked here that quit? That was Eliza."

"I'm glad you know the owner," Nell said. "You can return it to her."

Audrey didn't respond to that. Callen and Nell exchanged a look – the locket had obviously triggered a strange reaction in the woman playing the part of the hotel's maid.

"Is everything okay?" Callen asked when it became clear that Audrey wasn't going to offer any more information on her own.

Seeing the obvious worry on Audrey's face, Nell gently added, "You can feel comfortable talking to us. I promise."

Callen spared a glance at Nell, wondering if she realized how naturally she could make others feel at ease. It was moments like these that made him wonder why (when it came to field work) she didn't have the same confidence in herself that he did. That their whole team did.

"Eliza was my best friend," Audrey began, wrapping the necklace's chain around her hands. "We worked here together for three years, but we both wanted more out of life. I wanted to be a singer and Eliza dreamed of becoming an actress. A 'real' actress, she liked to say, not a pretend maid, like our roles here. We talked about moving to L.A. and finally decided to take the leap last summer. We gave our notice, packed our things, and two days before we were supposed to leave, Eliza texted me to say she'd changed her mind and she was moving to Seattle with her boyfriend."

Nell tried to imagine how she'd react if a friend did that to her. Well, it'd prove they weren't much of a friend, wouldn't it? "I think I'd be furious."

"Oh, believe me, I was." Audrey's face got darker as she looked out one of the windows. "I had to ask for my job back because I wasn't about to move to a new city alone…I'm not that tough." She laughed, though it was self-deprecating.

"It makes sense that you'd be angry," Nell told her. "And that you wouldn't want to go by yourself."

Audrey flashed her a smile so brief that Nell nearly missed it. "Davis was surprisingly understanding about everything. He let me stay without giving me grief for it. I think he felt sorry for me."

Callen considered her words…might there be another side to the irritable house manager? There must be if he'd let Audrey keep her job without complaint.

It was clear that recounting the story was causing Audrey to relive some painful memories; her entire manner had become increasingly morose. "Eliza texted me a couple times after that saying she was fine and liked Seattle. I eventually got over my anger, because what's the point of holding onto things like that? If she was happy, then fine, she was happy. I wanted to visit, but she kept putting me off, and then she stopped answering my texts altogether. I guess we weren't as close as I'd thought."

The more she talked, the more red flags Callen was counting. "She cut off all contact?"

"Yeah, I thought it was strange, but what could I do? The picture in the necklace is of her and her mom. She didn't have much left of her parents, they died when she was a kid." Audrey ran her finger over the side of the heart. "I don't understand why she didn't ask me to look for it. I might have found it months ago and mailed it to her."

Callen had seen it in hundreds of faces over the years – what it looked like when someone was holding back what they really wanted to say. He didn't know the reason, but he knew there was more to the story, and he got straight to the point. "What aren't you telling us?"

Audrey fiddled with the loose clasp of the necklace. "The way things ended between us was…difficult to accept. Part of me wondered if her boyfriend was to blame. She'd been seeing him for a little while before we were planning to move and she never told me his name. I only knew that he was older and she didn't talk about him much. It was their break-up that made her finally agree to move to L.A. But they got back together and she changed her plans and went to Seattle with him. I've always suspected he had something to do with not letting her talk to me much after they moved."

The more details Nell got, the less she liked them, though she still tried to reassure Audrey, "Maybe if you tell her about the locket, she'll respond this time."

"I hope so. It meant a lot to her. In fact, I think I'll go try calling her now." Audrey thanked Nell again before leaving the room.

Callen and Nell both knew they were thinking the same thing – years at their job meant Audrey's story was far too familiar.

He finally broke the silence, somewhat reluctantly. "We're not the only ones thinking it, Nell. You saw the worry on her face; she didn't want to say the possibility out loud, but it's clear she's wondered if something happened to her friend. Eliza disappeared one day without any notice? Never called, only texted? Left one of her most personal possessions behind and never asked Audrey to look for it?"

Nell shook her head, not because she didn't believe it, but because she didn't _want_ to believe it. "It's too damn sad, Callen." She tried to imagine any other option. "Maybe she moved on with her life and wanted to cut ties with this place. Maybe we're too suspicious about everything, in general."

"Maybe. Let's see if Audrey's able to get in touch with Eliza."

"If she can't, I'll get more information and see if I can track her down."

He stood up, knowing he had to go meet Deeks who was probably already waiting for him. "Nell –"

"Don't ask me to stay out of it."

He put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned over her. "I wouldn't. I know you're going to look into it, so let me know how I can help."

She tipped her head back. "Just talking to you helps."

He smiled down at her. "I gotta go before Deeks accuses me of bailing on him. Hey, there's not a chance you could make up an excuse to come rescue me in a little while, is there?"

"Yeah, you're on your own. Have a fun day!"

"You're not very supportive…why'd I marry you again?"

"'Cause it was in the script."

"Well, you're not living up to my expectations," he informed her, as he headed for the door.

"Of…?"

He stopped in the doorway and turned back to face her. "Catering to my every whim, of course."

"It's by design," she told him, cheerfully. "I can't let you start thinking that you run things. What kind of precedent is that to set for your _real_ future wife? Who I suddenly feel very sorry for, by the way."

"Is that so?" He arched a brow at her. "Remember this conversation, Nell Jones."

"I remember everything," she reminded him.

"I'm holding you to that," he swore. "And my next wife isn't going to have any of these attitude problems. I'm going to whip her into shape real fast. She'll know her place."

She tried not to laugh. "Oh yeah, what woman could resist that?"

"You're still here, aren't you?" he asked, pointedly.

"Because I'm forced to be," she insisted, as if they didn't both know it was a lie.

"Keep telling yourself that," he grinned, as he left.

 **XXXXXX**

Nell spent most of her day trying to avoid the others. That was much easier said than done, since apart from Deeks and Callen who were working together, her team chose to split up. Every time she turned a corner, there was another person asking if she'd found anything noteworthy (Kensi), or suspicious (Sam), or wanted to form an alliance (Eric). Hetty would appear occasionally to say something cryptic that helped Nell _not at all_ and then would vanish just as quickly – so that was pretty much normal.

"This isn't a reality show," Nell told Eric, exasperated, when he laid out his reasons for why they should team up. Sam walked by, casting them a distrustful glance, and Eric pulled her into one of the more secluded back hallways.

"Why wouldn't you want to make an alliance?" he insisted. "Have you already made one?"

"You're accusing _me_ of having one?" she asked, in disbelief. "I saw you with Kensi out on the back patio. Don't pretend like you're innocent."

"We were discussing the weather," he said haughtily.

"Conveniently outside where no one could overhear? And then you made sure to come back in separately and go different ways? And you've been avoiding each other ever since."

Eric weighed his options. "Maybe we're having an affair. You don't know."

"If you're having an affair with Kensi, then you're having an affair with Deeks, too. How's that working out?"

"I'm not comfortable discussing our love life. That, uh, the _three of us_ share."

"You're making me jealous."

He eyed her, calculating. "Is that right?"

"Oh yeah," she gestured for him to step closer and whispered, "I'd love to take your place some time."

His expression cleared. "I knew you were kidding. No way you'd ever leave your husband."

It took Nell a second to process his reference. "Right, the game."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I meant the _game_."

She ignored his baiting tone. "My question is why would you trust Kensi in the first place? You know where her allegiance lies."

"Nell, don't you know anything about alliances? You're supposed to make as many as possible and then betray _all of them_ so you come out the winner." He paused. "Not that I'd do that to _you_ , of course."

"You're really making your case here."

"You're working with Callen, aren't you? I knew he'd get to you before I did," Eric complained. "He's too crafty and he has an unfair advantage."

She had this next part practically memorized by now: "We're not in a relationship. Besides, he wouldn't let me win even if we were."

"Funny, Nell," he said, as if she couldn't possibly be serious.

"I'm not trying to be funny."

Eric looked at her like she was dense – she wasn't used to seeing that look from, well, anyone. "This has nothing to do with your relationship, whatever it is, or isn't. It's not even about Callen – though I could probably write a book on him alone. It's about _you_."

She was starting to lose control of where this was going. "What about me?"

"Oh hey, you two!" Kensi called from the other end of the hallway, saving Nell from an increasingly uncomfortable conversation.

"Maybe set aside some time for self-reflection this weekend," Eric whispered to Nell, right before Kensi reached them.

"What's going on here?" Kensi glanced between them. "Secret meeting?"

Eric's laughter was forced. "If this was a secret meeting we'd be…out on the patio. Or something. Not in a deserted back hallway that hasn't seen human life for twenty years."

"It might have seen an otherworldly kind of life," Nell suggested, as he scowled at her.

Kensi wasn't buying Eric's poorly acted innocence. "You wouldn't happen to be making alliances with everyone, would you, Beale? And then betraying them?" She shot her gaze to Nell. "Uh, not that _we_ have an alliance, or anything."

"I would never do that to you or anyone else," he insisted, echoing the words he'd said to Nell less than a minute earlier.

"I'll leave you two to figure this out," Nell said, escaping down the hall which led toward the back of the house. She reached a fork and randomly picked left, because she knew the sun room was in that general direction and she wanted to see what it was like with the afternoon sun shining in. The deeper she got into the house, the worse the passageways became – narrow, dim, and dusty. There were no windows and only a couple doors that were back entrances to some of the main rooms. Nell suspected these halls had mostly been meant for servants. There was nothing back here and no reason for her to be there, either.

Why hadn't she stuck to the main part of the house? Oh right, because she'd been trying to avoid people, and look how well that had been working out so far. Besides, this was Eric's fault for unknowingly dragging her into the depths of the house – had anyone been here since the Reagan administration?

She had the odd sense she was being watched. Or followed. She stopped, listening for footsteps, and glanced behind her. There was nothing. When she turned back ahead, Deeks was standing there and at least she didn't jump this time – sure, it was because she had momentarily frozen in shock, but based on her poor track record this weekend of dealing with the unexpected, she'd count it as a win.

"Hey, Nell!"

At least it was better running into him than a ghost. Probably. "Where did you come from?"

He pointed at the closed door next to him. "Back staircase. Leads up to the second floor. Where are we?"

"Servants' corridors, I think. Isn't Granger your shadow for the day?"

"I think he ditched us. Callen and I were in one of the bedrooms and Granger said he'd be back in a minute, and then he never came back. We kept waiting for him. We actually worked together for an _hour_ of our own free will. It was a nice bonding experience."

"Where's Callen, then?"

Deeks looked up and down the hall, empty save for the two of them, as if only realizing his partner for the day was missing. "He didn't come through here?"

"No…"

"You're not hiding him from me?"

Nell held her arms out. " _Where_?"

"He was the first one down the staircase and there were no other exits – at least, that I saw." Deeks opened the door he'd come through, giving Nell a glimpse of an extremely narrow hall leading to steep stairs and a suffocatingly low ceiling. She doubted she'd even have clearance for her head – Deeks must have had to duck the whole way down. Deeks called for Callen a few times, voice echoing in the empty space and got no answer.

"You lost him?"

"In all fairness, I think he lost himself. He probably ditched me, but feel free to go up there and check. You'll come out near the back bedrooms that no one's staying in."

Nell had never been that concerned about small spaces, but the staircase was none too inviting. And she'd already had her share of being trapped this weekend. "I'm not going up there. I might spontaneously develop claustrophobia."

"Suit yourself. I'm going to try and find Granger because I feel like he's testing us – in fact, maybe Callen went looking for him, too. Want to come with me?"

Nell's laughter was the only answer he got as he walked way, muttering something about making sure she was Granger's next victim.

She kept going down the hall, relieved when the passage finally branched off and she found herself back in one of the main hallways. As she turned a corner, she ran into Grant.

"Good afternoon," he said, pleasantly. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm on my way to the sun room. It's around here, right?"

"You've almost made it. I'll show you."

He took her to the last room on the back west corner of the house. It had floor to ceiling windows along two walls and numerous skylights to let in the sun.

"Lydia – Mrs. Blackwell – loved to bring her guests back here. As you can tell, the windows have been updated, but the overall feel of the room has been left as close as we could manage to the original."

"It's beautiful," Nell said, taking it in. She absolutely loved it – it was a welcome bright and cheery room in a house that (from what she'd seen) could be far too dark and gloomy.

Grant started talking about the architectural history of the house and Nell mostly tuned him out, staring out the window at the inviting lawn out back. A landscaping crew had arrived a few hours before and had been working non-stop, no doubt with Davis hovering nearby to get things up to his standards.

She wondered what it would have been like to live in that house, to spend mornings and afternoons in such a warm, cozy room – reading or writing or simply conversing with friends. To host parties there, perhaps with people spilling out into the backyard to dance and play games.

Nell wondered if Lydia had loved her husband. If they'd been happy.

Her line of thought quickly turned when she remembered that Lydia had committed suicide shortly before her husband was murdered.

"How's it going?" Callen asked, as Nell turned around to find him in the doorway. She had a flashback to the morning when he'd found her the same way with Audrey.

"Deeks is looking for you," she said, instead of answering his question.

" _Was_ looking for me. I found Granger in the kitchen and then Deeks found both of us. Gretchen distracted them with appetizer samplers and I saw my opportunity for escape."

Nell checked the time. "You made it far longer with them than I thought you would."

"And now I'm free. How about we take a tour?" He mostly directed the question at Grant.

The other man clearly wasn't a fan of that suggestion. "Sure…" he said, while looking at Nell, "if it's fine with both of you. I know some people prefer to work alone."

"What do you think, Nell?" Callen asked. "Am I _allowed_ to come with you? I can point out what you should be paying attention to in order to solve the case."

He goaded her into things – she swore he did. "Know what, I think I feel like going with Grant alone."

"Really," he said flatly.

"Yes, you can take the next tour."

"Don't make me give you an order."

"You _can't_ give me an order," she countered, realizing they'd found themselves in the middle of a very childish stand-off – and they had a witness, at that. She might have been embarrassed if she weren't enjoying herself so much.

"Actually, as your superior –" he glanced at Grant, "– in the…White Collar Division, I can order you around all day long."

"First of all, I'd like to see you try. Secondly, I didn't realize we were at work right now."

"This is practically an extension of work. It applies!"

Grant cleared his throat, "Maybe I should come back later?"

Nell figured that Callen had picked up on the other man's unfriendly vibe toward him. She had no idea what precipitated it, but she knew it would make Callen want to stick around instead of continuing to wander the house on his own, like he'd probably planned.

They both ignored Grant's question.

"Alright then," she challenged, "give me that order."

Callen had a feeling he was stepping into a trap. "Well…I'd rather not have to."

"That's what I thought."

"I don't understand what you're asking of me, either. Am I supposed to avoid you? What if I happen to be in the same places you're going?"

She put her hands on her hips, attempting to stare him down. "Then go be in other places! This house has like a hundred rooms."

Grant cleared his throat. "Actually, our official count, excluding closets –"

Callen held a hand up to silence him. "Nell, are you forgetting that we _already_ agreed to work together? Last night?"

Oh right. She'd gotten too caught up in the argument. "You might bring up a valid point."

"So…"

"Fine, I suppose you can join us. What would I ever do without you, right?"

He pretended to think it over. "Lose the game?"

He certainly had a knack for making her want to throttle him. "Yeah, I'm definitely not going to regret this."

Grant wasn't sure what to make of the two of them. "You guys said you investigate white collar crimes? Like…professionally?"

"You say that as if you don't think we're professionals," Callen declared, slapping Grant on the shoulder.

Grant eased a few steps away from him, trying to make the distance seem natural. "You know, every TV pilot season there are lots of cop shows and I try to audition when I can get down to L.A. You guys sound close enough to cops that you could give me some tips. Like, what's the best way to take down a criminal? What do you do if someone tries to kill you? What's the last thing you investigated – no, what's the _creepiest_ thing you've investigated?"

Callen shook his head, wondering where to begin with this kid. "First of all, television is nothing like reality. The people in real life are not that attractive. Not in the _slightest._ "

"Have you seen your co-workers?" Grant asked, sending a grin Nell's way. "Half of them could be models."

"Why, thank you," Nell said, demurely.

"Half of them?" Callen frowned. "Wait – am I in the other half?"

"Well…" Grant shrugged.

"Now, Callen," Nell took hold of his arm, "you're very pretty…have you thought about getting a haircut?"

"How about a subscription to GQ?" Grant suggested. "That's done wonders for me, I get 15% more callbacks than I did before."

"No one asked you, Grant," Callen said, through gritted teeth.

Nell was sure he could hear the laughter in her voice. "We were joking."

Grant was confused. "I wasn't jok–"

"Moving on," Callen interrupted, "I don't think we'd be much help to you. White collar crimes are so boring that they'd never base a TV show on that…or NCIS at all, for that matter."

Nell nodded in agreement. "If you're going to audition for a show, I'd say you're much better off copying what's already on TV instead of asking us. Think about how unrealistic those shows are. Like how on TV the bad guy is always the vaguely familiar actor who you recognize but don't quite know their name. You meet him around the second scene and he's completely non-threatening, but the 'twist' is that he's the killer."

"Exactly," Callen agreed. "If we were investigating a murder here, and the staff were suspects, Davis would be at the top of the list. But the real killer would probably be you, Grant. Now, you're not a killer…are you?"

"Not that I know of?"

"Is that a question?" Callen demanded.

Grant took a few casual steps further back so that Nell was between him and Callen. "No? I mean, _no_ ," he hastily corrected himself before Callen could point out that he'd answered with a question again. "I'm really looking for tips about your actual jobs, though. What's a typical day like for you?"

Nell tried to remember the pertinent details of their backstory. "We investigate a little of this, a little of that."

"You might call us jacks of all trades," Callen said.

"It seems to me like you guys don't know _what_ you do," Grant sounded unsure.

"It's mostly classified," Callen said firmly.

"Bank crimes are…classified?"

"Fraud is serious business. Or do you not think so, Grant?"

"I'm sure he takes forgery and money laundering very seriously," Nell said, recognizing that Grant had taken on the shifty, uneasy manner they commonly saw in suspects about to flee. Not that she thought he was guilty of anything – just that they'd succeeded in making him uncomfortable. (Well, Callen certainly had a talent for that.)

"I would never try to pass off counterfeit money as real," Grant swore. "Though if I did, what are some things you guys look for?"

"Why? You want to print some money?" Callen asked. "That's a serious crime – you're looking at hard labor, possibly a life sentence."

Grant swallowed. "I'm looking for tips, you know, to get into character. Hey, you're kidding about those penalties, right?"

"Federal crimes are no joke," Callen said, darkly.

"I respect the law," Grant said, warily. "It's why I'd love a career in Hollywood pretending I'm in law enforcement." He lowered his voice, "Between the three of us, I feel like my natural acting ability is being wasted here."

"Speaking of that," Nell seized on the change of subject, "we were talking to Audrey this morning and she mentioned her friend Eliza. You all worked together?"

"Oh yeah, Eliza, she was nice, really friendly. It made what she did all the more strange."

"What'd she do?" Nell asked, wondering how closely his story would match up with Audrey's.

"She ditched Audrey, who was supposedly her best friend. The two of them were going to move away together and then Eliza skipped town with her boyfriend."

"Did you ever meet the guy?"

"No, Eliza was real secretive about her personal life. I only knew she was seeing someone because Audrey told me. I'll be honest, after Eliza left without even saying goodbye, my opinion of her fell pretty hard. Audrey was upset for a long time. I offered to move with her, taking Eliza's place, since I've been thinking of relocating to L.A. myself. I told her that even a small apartment would be fine with me – I have no problems sharing a bed – but she wasn't having it."

"How generous of you," Nell said, wryly.

"I know, right?" Grant completely missed her sarcasm.

"Eliza never contacted you after she left?" Callen asked.

"No, why would she? Why are you asking all these questions, anyways? Is Eliza in trouble?"

"Nothing like that," Nell explained. "Audrey hasn't been able to reach her, so we told her we'd help track Eliza down. We're good at finding people."

"Ask Gretchen, as well," Grant suggested. "She might have different contact information for her because I remember her saying she'd heard from Eliza a couple times, too. I hadn't even known they were friends." He checked his phone. "I have to go meet Davis."

"What about our tour?" Callen asked.

Grant's easy-going demeanor disappeared, as if the question had reminded him that he didn't like Callen, for whatever reason. "I can come back later if you want," he offered, sounding as if it pained him.

"Forget it," Nell told Grant. "We'll be okay on our own."

"Isn't it his _job_ to –" Callen began, as Nell nudged him with her elbow a bit harder than necessary.

"He's not required to personally cater to us when he has other job requirements," Nell informed Callen. "Right, Grant?"

Her words were unnecessary, considering Grant had already left the room.

"I got the sense he didn't like me," Callen said, stating the obvious.

"I think the dislike was mutual."

"I only disliked him because he disliked me first."

"What are you, 10 years old?"

"He didn't want me coming along on your tour," Callen pointed out. It had irritated him on a fundamental level. Who did Grant think he was, trying to dictate where he could go? _Especially_ if that place was somewhere with Nell?

"Maybe you intimidate him, ever think of that?"

"Please, Nell, I'm the most easy-going, carefree –" he didn't get any further than that before she burst into laughter.

"Sure, if you want to be. You can be pretty…intense with new people, especially before you get to know them."

"I never intimidated _you_ ," he pointed out.

"Because I could see right through you. I have that ability."

"Come to think of it, Hetty never scared you either, which shouldn't be possible for any sane person. Maybe there's something wrong with you."

"I like to think I'm just a phenomenal judge of character."

"Alright then, what's your opinion of Grant?"

She went over to one of the bookcases, reading the spines of the novels. Most of them were classic literature and a lot were in foreign languages. "From the few interactions I've had with him, he seems like a decent person. He wasn't showing signs of guilt and he didn't seem like he was hiding anything. He didn't even flinch when we brought her up. Although he _is_ an actor."

"I got the same vibe from him as you did. And no, he's not that good of an actor…which is a subject I know a few things about."

He was right and she rarely thought about that because she didn't often see him in the midst of an undercover role. The few times she had, she'd been left with an eerie, unsettling feeling, like he was himself but also…not. She _hated_ it. She just…preferred him to be _him_. Not anyone else.

"I always forget how good at acting you really are," she said, as she went back to scanning book titles.

As he watched her, he wondered (for the first time in his life) if he might be _too_ good at it.

 **XXXXXX**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN:** Thanks for all the encouragement so far! The book Callen and Nell reference in this chapter is _House of Leaves_ by Mark Danielewski. It's about a house that changes inside as the occupants live there. It's a difficult read, but unlike anything I've read before or since, and it's worth it if the premise interests you.

 **XXXXXX**

Nell was trying to focus on the task at hand and search the sun room for clues, but her heart wasn't really in it.

She pulled out a drawer from one of the side tables next to an over-sized chaise lounge, but it was empty. And wait, hadn't she –

"The first two times you checked that drawer there was nothing." Callen took a seat on the chaise and made an elaborate show of leaning over to examine the drawer himself. "What do you know? Third time's _not_ the charm."

She shoved the drawer back in, then quickly looked around to make sure Davis wasn't lurking in a corner, ready to reprimand her for being too hard on the furniture. "Are you helping me? Or annoying me?"

"Can't I do both?"

She tried to determine how serious he was. (Conclusion: too serious.) "Sure, just think about how miserable you want the rest of your weekend to be."

He knew she was kidding, but she seemed too irritated for his liking; he wasn't trying to start a fight (well, not another one, at least). "How about you take a break?"

"A break from getting nowhere?" When she moved to step away, he took her wrist and pulled her to sit down. She sighed at the move but didn't actually care enough to protest. Instead, she kicked off her shoes (no telling when Davis would jump out from behind a bookcase or something) and laid down on the chaise, throwing her legs across Callen's lap.

"I know what you're thinking." He tapped on her ankle. "It's about Eliza, isn't it?"

Nell feigned amazement. "It's almost like you're an investigator!"

He smiled at that, just a little. "No, it's almost like I know _you_."

She put her arm behind her head and stared at the shockingly blue sky through the skylights; the brightness of the day outside somewhat made up for the dreary weather from yesterday, but it didn't fit the eerie tone of their weekend. "I ran into Audrey earlier and she had no luck reaching Eliza to tell her we found her necklace. I hid in my room for a little while and did some searching online, but I can't find any record of her in Washington. Or anywhere in the surrounding states. It's like once she moved away, she stopped existing."

" _If_ she moved away."

Nell thought about how her words might be truer than she'd intended (what if Eliza _had_ stopped existing?). "Yeah."

Callen knew that despite the casual way she spoke, this was affecting her more than she let on. "You can talk to me. If you want."

"I always want to talk to you," she admitted, without really thinking about it. "I don't know what there is to say, though. At least, not without seeming…ridiculous."

He could hear her hesitance to go on and it sparked a new concern in him. Notwithstanding the unusual events of the night before, he wasn't used to hearing Nell worried or anxious or…was it possible she might even be scared? He stretched his arm out along the back of the chaise and wondered what he could say to reassure her. "I'd never think anything you said was ridiculous."

"Now I know you're lying," she accused.

"Fine, tell me whatever you're thinking and I'll proceed to harshly judge you. Happy?"

"Oh yeah, very," she said sarcastically, still reluctant to go on. It was a losing battle, though, because she really couldn't hide things from him – she had no idea why she tried. "This place…I know we've been joking about it being 'haunted' but don't you think there's something off about it?"

"You mean the mood they're trying to instill by staging certain events, like the lights going out or locking us in the study?"

"No, I'm talking about the…other things," she hedged. "The ones that are harder to explain, like hearing things that aren't there. Or feeling like I'm being watched. Or thinking I see people in windows or these inexplicable feelings of dread or getting so cold that sometimes I think –"

When she abruptly stopped talking in the middle of her sentence, he realized he hadn't been wrong; she _was_ worried there might be more going on than they knew, and it was getting to her. He reached over and took her hand, pulling her to sit up next to him. When she met his eyes in question, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders to bring her slightly closer. He couldn't really say why, except that… "I know how you feel, and I don't want you to feel that way anymore."

Her expression softened and she leaned back against his arm. "I don't. Not right now." _Not with you_.

"I wouldn't be entirely honest if I said I hadn't noticed anything off about this house, either. But things that aren't planned as part of the game are most likely innocuous and we're misinterpreting them in a sinister way."

"Yeah, I know you're right," she muttered, tone indicating she didn't know that at _all_. "Though nearly spending my night in the basement didn't do anything to help matters."

He clearly wasn't a fan of thinking about that – in fact, it looked like it angered him more than her. "I took care of that, by the way."

"Don't tell me you plan to shut this place down."

Oh, she knew him so, _so_ well. "I wouldn't go that far," he claimed.

Her expression conveyed her utter disbelief at his statement.

"Alright, so I threatened it to get their attention," he admitted. "The owners are sending a crew out to inspect the whole house. I'm still inclined to think that entire incident last night was part of the game that you somehow got trapped in, but whether it was intentional or an accident, it's not going to happen again."

"I'm sure Davis loved the phone call he got from his bosses today."

"Yeah, we might want to avoid him for the rest of the weekend."

"Implying we weren't going to anyways?" she joked.

"And that's if you even want to stay the rest of the weekend."

"What?"

"We can go home if you want," he offered casually, as if it'd always been an option.

"Since when?" She also didn't miss that he'd said 'we'. "You'd leave with me?"

"This isn't prison, as much as Granger feels like our jailer at times. Besides, I've been trying to get out of this for a month," he reminded her. "I'm always looking for new ways to defy, well, everyone who tells me what to do."

"Last night you said you were having fun."

He did a quick check of the room. "You're not supposed to say that out loud – other people might hear you!"

"I appreciate your offer, but we can't leave." When he didn't look convinced, she clarified, "I don't _want_ to leave."

"You're sure?"

She nodded, pressing her feet up against the end of the chaise. Was it strange that she was still sitting with her legs stretched out over him? She wasn't sure she even knew what counted as 'strange' anymore when it came to them…it felt like a lot had changed in just two days (though, if she was being honest, maybe things had been changing long before this weekend). She should probably move, but she didn't feel that inclined. And he didn't seem to mind.

When he didn't say anything, she explained, "I feel like I have to stay and see this weekend through. Not for the training or because of Granger, but…"

"Because of Eliza."

"I want to know what happened to her. I could go home and keep looking, but I feel like –"

"– the answers are here," he finished for her.

"Her possibly being missing feels strangely personal to me. And why? Because I found her necklace?"

"All of us have cases that speak to us more than others," he said. "We can't always say why, either. I mean, I know I can't."

"This isn't even a case; we don't know if anything really happened to her. She could have changed her name or moved out of the country or any number of things," Nell pointed out, frustrated. "I should be focusing on Granger's psychological battery of tests for the weekend, not some girl who might or might not be missing."

"Hey, this is what we do." He waited for her to look at him. "It's who we _are_ , Nell."

"We're not supposed to get too invested," she argued. "We both know that. I should try to –"

"Nell." He couldn't let her finish whatever justification he was sure she'd come up with for why she should stop caring. "Your dedication, your passion, the _way_ you care for the people we help, that's one of the things that I…" he paused before resetting himself and continuing, "It's one of the things I admire most about you."

She examined his face, recognizing the truth of what he'd said. "You don't have to say things like that."

"I should say things like that _more_."

She glanced down at her hands, as if they were of particular interest to her at that very moment. "You really…think all that?"

He nodded, and upon realizing she wasn't looking at him, he said out loud, "Yes. Always."

Predictably (Nell swore she could set a watch by their teammates' intrusions), Deeks burst into the room at that moment.

"There you two are!" He was slightly out of breath, as if he'd been running. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? This place is a labyrinth; I half-expect to see a minotaur around every corner. Don't you answer your phones?"

Callen looked at his phone out of habit, though he already knew it would show zero bars. "No service," he reminded Deeks. "Come to think of it, this is the most peaceful weekend I've had in a long time without constantly having to deal with all of you texting and calling me non-stop."

"You should be happy that there are people in your life who want to spend time with you," Deeks scolded. "And considering your acerbic, often outright hostile personality, that's quite the –"

"Deeks!" Nell interrupted him before he could really get going. "What'd you want?"

He studied them for a moment, noting the unusually close way they were sitting – though acting 'unusual' wasn't that uncommon for them. More telling, in his mind, was that they hadn't even attempted to separate when he'd entered the room, which meant they were both entirely comfortable and didn't see anything wrong with it. Would it be too much if he quickly snapped a picture of them to analyze later with Kensi? Alright, maybe. (But it was a shame because he knew that Kens would _love_ this.) "Let me begin by saying that I'm not going to comment on the fact that you two look very cozy in here."

"I'm pretty sure _that's_ a comment on it," Nell told him, tone as dry as ever.

"You might have a point. I guess I can't help myself."

"I'm going to assume there was a reason you were looking for us?" she prompted.

"It's Deeks, don't count on it," Callen loudly whispered.

"Ha. Ha." Deeks folded his arms. "Just for that, I'm tempted not to tell you, but you're lucky I like both of you too much."

Callen made a point of checking his phone again. "It's been a half hour since you came in here and we still have no idea –"

"It's been two minutes!" Deeks' voice had risen alarmingly fast and he made an effort to calm himself. "Okay, Callen, I'm not going to let you ruin the connection we formed earlier today just because you can barely handle human interaction. You know, outside of…" he gestured to Nell, obviously indicating whatever their relationship comprised.

"You two formed a connection?" Nell was intrigued.

Deeks shook his head in disappointment at how quickly she'd forgotten. "Remember I told you earlier, Nell? Imagine my shock that Callen didn't mention it. At one point, it was almost like we shared one mind."

"One mind, hmm?" Nell was sure the lead agent would contest that.

"Let's not go that far," Callen said, quickly proving her right. "Now, we might have gotten along for a little while, but it's not like we're going to make a habit of it or anything. And I maintain we only bonded over trying to make Granger's day as miserable as possible."

"See?" Deeks sent Nell a meaningful look. "We _bonded_."

"Wait, I want to pick a different word," Callen said, hastily.

"Too late," Nell tsked, thinking that maybe this weekend would be good for Callen in more ways than one. Anything that made him even a _little_ less isolated was worth it, in her book.

"We worked together for an hour alone, Nell. An hour!" Callen dramatically put his head in his hands. "And we didn't even have to because Granger was long gone."

Deeks nodded thoughtfully. "When I finally found our boss in the kitchen, he told me he didn't come back because he was distracted, but I'm beginning to think that was a lie."

"You think?" Nell teased.

Deeks grinned at her. "No matter, Nell. It's clear this day had a greater purpose. For a little while it was almost like Callen and I were – dare I say it – brothers?" His tone was mostly serious, but there was a hint of humor in it. He was well-aware how uncomfortable he could make Callen with a few well-placed words.

"Nell," Callen pleaded, maybe thinking she would help him.

He thought oh so wrong. She was actually reveling in every second of their conversation. "This just might be the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

Deeks sent them a sly smile. "This weekend's really bringing people together. Which leads me to why I'm here: everyone's convening in the study because I'm going to demonstrate some of my favorite magic tricks. It seems no one on this team believes that I'm actually well-versed in the art of illusion. It's a passion that began in my formative years, during my middle school's annual talent show…but I digress – just prepare to be amazed." With that, and some type of peculiar, flourishing bow, Deeks swept out of the room.

"He's definitely got the theatrics down," Callen sounded like he wanted to say something that wasn't _completely_ unkind.

When he made no attempt to get up, Nell wondered how difficult it was going to be to get him to the study. (It'd probably help if she weren't half-sitting on him.) "It sounds like he has something fun prepared."

"I think I'd rather stay here with you."

"Well, _I'm_ going," she informed him, moving to swing her legs down and get up, but at the last second he grabbed one of her ankles – it was extremely poor timing on his part since her momentum was already carrying her forwards. She flailed for a second before catching herself on the edge of the chaise, and he'd already shot forward to grab her shoulder and help her sit back up. She angrily shook him off and turned to him with no shortage of astonishment. "What the hell!"

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, looking like he really wanted to laugh but wasn't doing so because he was afraid of her. "In all fairness, I didn't anticipate…whatever that was."

She pulled her legs away and moved to the other end of the chaise lounge so he could see the full effect of her glare. "What the hell _did_ you anticipate?"

"That I'd stop you from getting up. I guess I could have gone about it another way…though it did accomplish my purpose. Just not so gracefully."

"Yeah, I _love_ being manhandled." She tried to keep up her irritated tone, but it was already fading.

"You don't say?" he smirked. "I'll file that away for later."

"Better watch it or Granger's going to make you go to another harassment seminar."

"Hey, that last one wasn't because of me," he reminded her. "It was because of your two overly-affectionate co-workers. And Hetty, in her infinite wisdom, thought it'd look better if she made the whole team attend instead of just them."

"That was an…interesting day." Nell remembered that their instructor, an older woman around her mid-50's, kept choosing Granger to be her partner as she demonstrated various 'inappropriate' scenarios. "I think our boss almost found love."

"You need a dictionary, Nell, because 'interesting' is not the word for that. 'Nightmare-inducing' maybe?"

"Hey, everyone deserves happiness."

"I don't think even Granger deserves to be saddled with someone as awful as she was," Callen refuted. "Remember what she said about our team?"

Nell suddenly recalled that she'd hated that day by the end of it. "She said we're all too close."

"Hmm, too close. I wonder why she thought that?" Callen leaned over to pull her into a hug and her scowl at the memories of their seminar (and any leftover anger from him causing her to nearly topple off the couch) quickly vanished as she started laughing.

"This right here!" She playfully pushed him away. "This kind of thing is why she hated our group. Remember when she told Granger he should split all of us up more? Or permanently mix up our teams?"

"One of the few times I've ever appreciated Granger's ability to disregard literally _everything_ that people tell him."

"How odd, considering you share the same trait. You know, you two are much more alike than you want to admit."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're treading on thin ice, Jones."

"You wouldn't be annoyed if you didn't think it was true."

He didn't smile, but it took a lot of effort. "I seriously question your perception of the world sometimes."

"When something is difficult or uncomfortable, or you just don't want to face it, you choose to live in denial instead." Her words were glib, but they struck him in an unusual way – she was right, on so many levels, and she didn't even know it.

He made no move to stop her when she stood up again, and he grinned when she hurriedly jumped out of his reach, clearly expecting him to pull her back onto the couch.

"Let me save us both the trouble of our next conversation," he began. "I'm going to make an inane joke, something along the lines of 'I'd rather jump into a volcano than go watch Deeks', but you'll say I have to because he and I are 'friends' – supposedly. Then we'll go back and forth a few more times and it won't end until you issue a threat you'd never actually follow through on, and that'll allow me to pretend like you won and forced me into it, when we both knew all along that I secretly wanted to go in the first place – because when would I ever pass up the potential goldmine of witnessing Deeks trying to perform magic?"

She couldn't argue any of that; it was _exactly_ how things would go. "I think Deeks might be right in his many accusations that we spend too much time together."

"I don't know if there's 'too much' with us," he said, tone thoughtful. "I think I could live with you and never get tired of you."

There were so many responses she could give to that statement and ultimately decided on her safest bet – exasperation. "You wouldn't _get tired of me_? From anyone else I'd consider that a veiled insult, but I'm going to take it as some weird G Callen level of compliment."

"It was a compliment," he assured her, getting up to follow her out of the room. "Of the highest order."

"And yet somehow you think Deeks is the one with an inflated ego." She pointed out a hallway diagonally across from them. "Blackwell's study is all the way on the other side of the house and I think this should get us there. Hopefully."

"You sound so confident." He didn't exactly relish the way the corridor got progressively darker the deeper into the house they went.

"I am. For the most part." Less than a minute later, they came to a fork in the hall and she peered in both directions. "Huh, I don't remember this."

"We're lost already?"

"We're not lost. We're near the…" she flung open the nearest door. "Game room! I knew it."

"Well, I could've done that."

"I memorized the map, but I swear half the time I'm still wrong about where I am. I'm beginning to think that this house changes layouts based on how it feels."

"This isn't _House of Leaves_. Buildings don't change their rooms around when you aren't looking."

"But imagine if they did?" She didn't seem too fond of the idea even though she'd been the first one to suggest it.

"No, I _don't_ want to imagine that," he countered. "Maybe they deliberately put errors in the maps they gave us."

That was actually the best explanation she'd heard yet. "That might be the kind of devious thing they'd do."

Despite the non-supernatural explanation, he noticed that she'd started walking closer to him than before and figured changing the subject would be best. "Do you think Deeks is going to try and make us participate?"

"That's a good question. If he asks, I'll make sure to volunteer you."

"And here I naïvely thought you weren't going to be making any more threats today."

"I thought you knew me better than that?"

"I should have suspected as much," he kidded. "I often ask myself, what did I do in another life to deserve this? I could have been…an accountant. Or something."

She obviously wasn't buying it. "An accountant?"

"Or something!"

"You wouldn't last a day," she scoffed.

"I could be doing people's taxes in a quiet cubicle for the rest of my life with no one around to bother me."

"Alone at work the same as you're alone at home?" The thought actually made her sad. "That's depressing, Callen."

"I think it'd be peaceful."

"Does that mean you don't find working with us peaceful?"

"Ah, yes, how could I forget the way Granger lowers my stress levels?"

"You do wonders for his, too."

Right, she'd never shied away from calling him out when he was being too hypocritical. Or stubborn. Or when he was outright wrong, for that matter. He didn't know why he loved that about her, but he did. It was just one of the _many_ things he loved about her, in fact.

The thought was enough for him to repeat himself, but instead of a joke, this time he was serious. "I'll say it again, I don't know what I did to deserve this –"

"Callen –"

"– but it must have been something good."

She was quiet for a few moments before revealing, "I've often felt the exact same way."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Ending up on this team, I think it was one of the luckiest things in my life. So much so that sometimes I think it _can't_ have been only luck and I must have earned it as a reward somehow. I'm not talking about the path of my career or the work I put into it, either – even after all that, I still might have ended up in a thousand different places with a thousand different people. By some twist of fate, though, I'm here with all of you…I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"There's a good chance you might think that about any course your life took."

"Maybe. But that doesn't change how I feel – if I had to do everything again, I'd always make the same decisions that led me here."

Now that was interesting. "You wouldn't change _anything_ about the choices in your life? Not even to avoid a terrible job or a failed relationship? I don't know many people who'd say the same."

"What if erasing something bad altered everything and I never got here? I couldn't take the chance."

"It sounds like you're saying everything happens for a reason."

She hadn't really thought about it that way, but… "Maybe everything does."

"I have a list a mile long of things that I'd change, but if you're right and all the bad leads to the good…then I don't know if I'd want to change anything, either. I think I ended up where I belong."

"Our team is pretty great, isn't it?"

He nodded, though he'd been thinking a lot more specific than that (like how he'd ended up right there in that hallway with her). He wondered what she'd say if he told her as much?

"There it is," she said, and he realized they'd hit another intersection. The familiar hall to their left led to the study. "See, I knew where I was going. Mostly."

When they got a little closer, they saw an armchair had been set in front of the open door to ensure it didn't close accidentally. That had to be Eric's doing.

Callen stopped right before the entrance. "This is your last chance to escape without them knowing."

"Get in there," she ordered, shoving into the room.

He was surprised enough to stumble forward a few steps. "Did you just –"

"Nell! Callen!" Kensi greeted from the sofa. "I'm shocked you two showed up."

"Told you they wouldn't miss this," Deeks told his partner smugly. He was sitting at Blackwell's desk and Eric had pulled up a chair in front of it. There were three overturned cups on the desk between them.

"Wait, this is what you meant by magic?" Callen asked. "I was expecting you to make someone disappear or saw them in half, not amateur sleight of hand. This is the kind of thing street 'magicians' do to con tourists out of money."

"Hey," Deeks snapped, "some of those people have talent."

"You'd trust Deeks anywhere near a saw?" Sam skeptically asked his partner.

"Well, I wouldn't let him do it on me, but if we could get Granger in here…"

"Oh, I could saw you in half," Deeks promised. "Don't bet against me."

Eric pointed to the middle cup and Deeks flipped it over to reveal a quarter.

"I win!" Eric exclaimed, reaching over to take it, but Deeks slapped his hand away.

"I was distracted," Deeks insisted, exaggeratedly nodding toward Nell and Callen as if they were to blame. He reset the cups and moved them around. When he asked Eric to choose, the analyst again found the correct one.

"That's five wins in a row," Eric declared, revealing Deeks had been losing at the trick for a while now.

"These aren't regulation cups," Deeks bit out, frustrated.

"Yeah, it's the cups," Sam said, laughing. He was on the couch with Kensi, flipping through the packet that detailed everyone's backgrounds, but he was obviously having more fun heckling Deeks.

"Maybe it's not a regulation quarter?" Kensi suggested, ignoring the glare from her partner that told her he knew very well she was mocking him.

Deeks tried the trick a few more times and Eric won every time.

"Can't you just let me go?" Eric asked, as Deeks slammed a cup back down without answering him.

Nell moved closer to watch the set up. "It's about distraction, so if you –"

"Nell, please," Deeks interrupted. "Are you the magician?"

"I might be more of one than you."

"I have my own proven strategies."

"Yeah, eleventh time's the charm," Nell said as she leaned against the desk.

Deeks moved the cups around while Eric scrutinized every move. "It's the _eighth_ time and your unhelpful comments are creating a negative energy that's making it very difficult to work. Go ahead, Beale."

"Deeks –" she tried.

"Negative energy, Nell!" He was actually more annoyed with himself than he was with her. "I don't need help."

Eric picked the correct cup and Deeks flipped the quarter at him before he could ask for it. "I hated that trick anyways."

Nell took the seat that Eric quickly vacated and Deeks' frown slowly turned to a smile. "Want to officially challenge me, Jones? I'll wish you luck because you're going to need it."

"Maybe I'm here to give you some pointers," she said, coolly.

Callen came over to the desk. "I think we can all agree that this cups trick is boring."

"Yes, it _is_ boring," Deeks emphatically nodded, enjoying the out Callen was unintentionally offering. "I always thought so myself."

"Then you're in luck, because look what I found over on the bookshelf?" Callen brandished a deck of cards, emptying them from the box and splitting the deck so he could shuffle them a few times.

"Now we're in business." Deeks accepted the deck, shuffling it a few times himself and then laying the cards in an array on the desk. "Pick a card, Nell! Any card."

She inwardly smiled at his enthusiastic delivery of the common phrase and took a card, checked it, and put it back into the deck. He reshuffled before pulling out a card – her card.

"Not mine," she said, remembering his comment about negative energy – he should know better.

"It has to be yours," Deeks insisted, his intention of gloating quickly disappearing. He examined the card before looking up at her and she hoped she did an admirable job of keeping her face blank.

Callen had no problem lying to back her up. "It _should_ be her card if you're trying to perform a magic trick, but it's not."

The confusion of their teammate was pretty evident. "I must have slipped up. It's been a while since I did this one. Kens, we're going to be practicing later."

"I can't wait," she said, and to everyone's amazement, she actually sounded as if she wouldn't mind.

"Oh, you are too far gone," Sam muttered, as she elbowed him in the side.

"I'm trying to work here," she said, waving the papers around like they were proof.

Nell thought about telling them that she'd found the necklace of a former staff member who now seemed to be missing, but she decided against it. There was still the chance it might be nothing serious and she wanted to look into it more thoroughly before jumping to any conclusions.

Deeks told Nell to pick another card. She chose the five of diamonds and after he shuffled, he held up the five of diamonds.

"Nope," Nell said, carefully not giving anything away. "That's not it."

Behind her, Callen mutely shook his head, enjoying Deeks' growing confusion.

Deeks turned the card over a few time trying to find any defects, then he went a step further and started checking the rest of the deck; in fact, he laid it out to make sure there were 52 cards without any doubles or any missing.

"Practice makes perfect. Want to try again?" Nell spoke with just the right amount of disinterest to make it seem like she didn't care what he did. When Callen glanced down at her in approval, she took a moment to wonder if they were a bad influence on each other.

Deeks and Nell went through the motions yet again and this time Callen was the one who told Deeks he hadn't chosen her card, even though he had.

Predictably, Deeks was inherently more suspicious of Callen by default. "That's not possible. I _know_ she picked the ace of hearts."

"Face it," Sam chimed in from the couch, "you've lost whatever magic touch that your fifth-grade self had."

"I think it's more likely the ghosts are changing the cards," Eric suggested. It was clear neither he nor Sam had been watching closely enough to realize what was going on.

Deeks leaned back, considering the possibilities. Callen could be unscrupulous with little to no provocation, but Nell rarely was – and if so, she generally had a damn good reason. He found her to be the fairest of anyone when it came to their team's inexplicable fondness for harassing him; she'd stepped in on his side many a time when the others (and Hetty and Granger) were against him…or maybe she just liked a challenge? However, all bets were off if Callen was involved, because she had an annoying tendency to back him. And he was 99.9% sure he'd been doing the trick right. Which meant…

"I don't trust either of you," he finally concluded.

"That might be the most intelligent deduction you've made all weekend," Callen said, and it was more a jab at Nell's untrustworthiness than anything to do with Deeks.

From Callen's tone alone, Deeks' suspicions were confirmed. He threw the cards down in satisfaction at being right and a few skidded over the edge of the desk, with Nell barely managing to catch them. "I knew it! Trust is a sacred thing and you two have violated it. You know there's a magicians' code."

"We're not magicians," Callen said, in case Deeks had somehow missed that part.

"And you never will be with that attitude. I have to say, I don't like it when you two team up for evil." He turned to Callen. "And I thought we were brothers."

Nell thought he was laying it on a bit thick. "If the tables were turned, you'd be bringing up our gullibility for weeks. Months even."

"I…uh…that is neither here nor there." Deeks didn't bother trying to deny it, he was mostly just glad that he'd been proven right and it wasn't his lack of skill to blame. "I think it's best if I cut ties with both of you for the weekend."

"Would it make you feel better if I denounced him?" Nell offered.

Deeks pondered that for a moment. "Actually, yes. I know he's the instigator. Can't you see that he's leading you astray?"

Callen's expression was a perfect mixture of disbelief and amazement. "Your view is seriously twisted if you believe that _I'm_ the instigator here. Nell is far more diabolical than you think. I don't know how she manages to convince you otherwise."

Nell happily ignored his accusation. "Save it, Callen. I'm denouncing you."

"See how quickly she turns?" Callen mock-scowled at her. "This should serve as a warning to anyone who might be thinking of teaming up with her this weekend. Or anyone who already has."

Nell grabbed a card from the deck and flung it at Callen. "He's trying to besmirch my good name. No one listen to him."

"I don't know who to believe anymore," Sam told them.

"How about your _partner_?" Callen's tone indicated the choice should be obvious.

"That's not even an argument, G. You're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

"I told you all long before this weekend," Eric sounded gleeful at finally being proven right, "you can't trust _either_ of them."

" _You're_ one to talk," Nell accused, as he coughed and turned away.

"Yeah, this whole 'fight' is probably an act," Deeks said. "We all know you wouldn't turn on each other."

"I wouldn't, because I'm a man of my word," Callen maintained. "But maybe Nell should think about the pacts she makes – like the one we have – and what might happen to her if she goes against them."

"Nell, you said your only alliance was with me!" Deeks exclaimed. He'd been fairly certain she was lying, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to call her on it.

"Um…you must have misunderstood?"

"I need some time to reflect on this betrayal," Deeks said, somberly.

"Please, you're as guilty as I am," Nell reminded him, but he was having too much fun to acknowledge his hypocrisy.

"Does anyone else hear that?" Deeks asked. "It's almost like someone's talking, but it's so faint, I must be mistaken."

"Fine, you want to play it this way? We'll see what happens on Sunday."

Deeks tilted his head. "Again, it's as if I hear a voice, somewhere on the wind…"

Nell headed for the doorway. "Good thing Deeks can't hear me say that I'm going to go hang out in his room for a while."

He twisted around in his chair to face her. "Don't you dare mess with my stuff, Nell. I have a system, I'll know if even _one_ thing has been moved out of place!"

"Do you hear something?" she asked Callen. "Almost like someone's yelling at me, but distant, on the wind…"

She yelped when Deeks started flipping cards at them in rapid-fire succession. She and Callen quickly fled the study as Deeks yelled after them that they better run if they knew what was good for them. They were halfway down the hall before they realized he wasn't going to chase them.

She needed a few seconds to catch her breath after laughing so hard. "He has no idea what he's done." It went without saying that her and Callen's 'fight' had been both spontaneous and fake, as the others guessed, but Nell had still found it fun.

"Do I even want to know what you're thinking?"

"Nothing too bad. Just how to irritate him the most with the least amount of effort on my part."

"Yeah, I'm the one leading you astray," he said, lightly. He saw a hint of white at the back of her collar and reached around her neck to pull out a playing card, confusion crossing his features as he held it up to show her. "Ace of hearts, your last card. He can't have somehow done that on purpose?"

She had no idea how, but she still wouldn't put it past him. "I'll give it back," she said, as Callen slipped the card into her hand.

"I think you should keep it as a souvenir."

She flipped it around a few times. Perhaps he was right. "Any idea where we could get more of these?"

 **XXXXXX**

"Nell Jones!" Deeks shouted across the balcony, words easily carrying through her open door to where Nell was lounging on her bed. She smiled at the level of outrage in his voice – he must have just realized she'd carefully hidden several decks worth of playing cards all over his room.

 **XXXXXX**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN:** I'm still having so much fun with this story and I truly appreciate all the feedback!

 **XXXXXX**

"Nell!" Deeks shouted, for the third time.

She ignored him. For the third time.

"Don't make me come looking for you," he yelled, as she groaned and reluctantly rolled off her bed. She made her way to the hallway, automatically looking over the balcony railing. No one was down below in the foyer, or anywhere else in sight, for that matter.

"Nell, stop ignoring –" Deeks appeared in the doorway of his room and paused when he spotted her. "There you are. Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Of course I did. Couldn't you tell by the way I didn't respond?"

He brandished a playing card at her threateningly (or as threatening as a card could be). "Why was this in the pocket of my evening robe?"

"You have an evening robe?" Sam asked, their voices having drawn him into the hallway. "Deeks, you're not 85, why do you continually act like you are?"

"You think this is bad?" Kensi asked, as she came down the hallway. "He has _four_ different kinds of robes."

Sam frowned at him. "Why do you… Know what, never mind. I just realized I don't actually care about the answer." He returned to his room without waiting for a response.

"Why does everyone think it's weird?" Deeks complained.

"Because it _is_ weird," Nell told him succinctly, "and what do you mean by 'everyone'? Do you often go around telling people about all your robes?"

"You'd be surprised," Kensi said, and then seemed to think about it. "Or, considering that you've known him as long as I have, maybe you wouldn't."

Deeks acted like they weren't discussing his odd tendencies as he turned back to Nell. "I have one for morning, one for evening, one for after showering, and one for when I need something more…sensual." He winked at Nell. "That last one's for special occasions."

"Oh, how lucky are the women in your life," Nell said, as Kensi tried to hide her laughter by going into his (their?) room.

"You know it, Nell." Deeks sent her what she presumed was supposed to be a knowing look. "I can see the wheels turning in your head as you realize exactly what you missed out on over here."

"You're referring to yourself, right?"

He ignored her joke. "I have to say, I'm glad that you've moved on."

"Have I?" she asked, archly.

He wouldn't be baited. "Where's your other half right now? It's strange for me to see you without him."

"Maybe I want to spend time with you…alone." She pressed her hands onto the railing and leaned forward. "I just can't get enough of that robe."

"You think you're funny?" Deeks tossed the playing card across the balcony to her, but it fell much too short and they both watched it flutter to a stop on the staircase down below.

Nell considered his lack of reaction to what she'd done in his room. "Wait, are you only mad about that _one_ card?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Deeks," Kensi's voice rang out, "why are there playing cards all over the place? Is this some kind of joke?"

His eyes didn't leave Nell as he demanded, "How many?"

Nell shrugged, going for innocent. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Kensi returned to the doorway, hands full of playing cards. "They're everywhere!" she exclaimed, promptly tossing them all into the air before spinning around and reentering the bedroom.

Deeks stood unmoving as the cards fluttered to the floor around his feet. "Nell, do you have any idea how long it's going to take Kensi to clean all of this up? Five, six minutes, at least!"

"I'm not your maid," Kensi called loudly.

"It wasn't me," Nell tried.

Deeks pointed at her. "Don't you dare say it was ghosts."

"I wasn't going to," she lied, inwardly cursing, because that was her go-to excuse this weekend. For everything. "Uh...it was Callen."

"I can hear you," Callen yelled from his room. "And you're a liar."

Nell found his interruption patently unfair. "You're not even out here!" she shouted. "Therefore, you're not a part of this conversation."

Callen instantly appeared in his own doorway. "What's that about not being out here?"

"That wasn't an invitation," she complained.

"Well, well, well." Deeks was smirking at them. "Callen isn't defending you, Nell…I never thought I'd see the day."

"Am I allowed to talk now?" Callen asked, sardonically. "You know, since I'm out in the hall."

Seriously, _how_ was she supposed to stay irritated with him when he just…amused her so much?

"Deeks, it wasn't me who put the cards in your room," Callen continued, easily selling her out. "It was Nell. I _watched_ her do it."

Oh right, _that_ was how she stayed irritated.

"Callen didn't stop me," Nell quickly pointed out, wondering if that counted as any sort of defense. "That makes him equally as culpable. Forget being a witness – he was basically an accomplice!" Yeah, she liked that last description much better.

"How so?" Deeks asked, rightly skeptical.

Nell thought back, considering. Mostly, Callen had stood in the doorway and made (what he considered witty) comments about how Deeks would react upon finding over 100 cards in random places around his room. That in itself wasn't so bad, but…

"He gave me suggestions! Like inside the pillowcases."

"I said no such thing," Callen protested.

Kensi returned to the hallway and wordlessly shook out one of the pillows. A half dozen cards fell out of the case and she turned on her heel and retreated.

"Fine, so I suggested a few places," Callen relented. "I _had_ to help her. I mean, her suggestions weren't half as clever as mine."

"Why is there a playing card in every one of my socks?" Kensi yelled.

"You're welcome," Callen called.

"By the way," Nell told Deeks, slowly, "you might want to check your car before driving home."

"Nelllll," Deeks sounded much too close to whining.

"Just think of it this way – every card you find is a reminder of how much I love you."

"I've never heard a worse excuse for trying to get out of the consequences of a prank," Deeks informed her, though he was clearly holding back a smile.

"Is it working?"

Deeks actually started laughing as he came over to put his arm around her shoulders in a sideways hug. "Alright, Nell. You're forgiven." He sobered immediately upon turning to Callen. "You, though – watch yourself."

"I'm somehow the bad guy now?" Callen threw his hands up in exasperation. "How is that fair?"

"Why didn't you stop her?" Deeks asked, in lieu of an answer.

Callen expected Nell to protest that, but all she did was watch him with the same questioning look that was on Deeks' face. "I don't know, Deeks. Maybe I have better things to do than police this team."

"Since when!" Deeks accused.

Callen wondered how Nell had flipped things around so quickly that Deeks had instantly forgiven her – and now, reminiscent of the card game earlier, it was once again _his_ fault for something she'd done. "I didn't want to be pushed out a window," he finally told Deeks.

"That's not even close to what I said," Nell insisted – she'd actually told Callen that if he even tried to stop her or alert Deeks too soon, she'd lock him in the basement so he could get a taste of what she'd gone through the night before. But even so, it wasn't like her threat had forced him to give her suggestions on where to hide the cards.

(Deeks might have been quick to accuse Callen of taking Nell's side, but Callen wondered if the detective ever noticed that _he_ was equally as guilty of always backing Nell.)

"You're her boss," Deeks was arguing. "You could have told her she'd be disciplined for harassing her colleagues. It's been over five years – you should be able to control her by now!"

Callen had a half-second to smugly think that Deeks had gone too far before Nell spoke and shattered his expectations completely.

"Yeah, Callen," she said, affecting a tone of (incredibly fake, to Callen's mind) innocence. "You should be able to control me. _By now_."

"I would _love_ to see the day someone controls you," Callen said, and when Nell couldn't help breaking out into a grin at that, Deeks finally seemed to get a clue.

"Wait, Jones, you're playing me?" Deeks quickly stepped away from her. "Once again, I've been betrayed!"

"It's not my fault you make it so easy," she told him.

Deeks just shook his head at her. "I'll leave you to deal with this traitor, Callen," he sniped, retreating to his room and kicking the door shut behind him.

"If you could _please_ refrain from slamming the doors," Davis scolded, appearing in the hallway on the other side of the balcony as if he'd come from thin air. Nell had to twist away from him so that he wouldn't see her laughing at his chastisement. (She was just glad Sam wasn't there to accuse him of using secret passageways.)

Deeks must have heard Davis, since he reopened his bedroom door. "I'm so sorry, I'll tell Kensi not to slam the door anymore."

"You'll what?!" Kensi shouted.

"She doesn't know her own strength," Deeks added, as Davis glowered at him. He slowly shut his bedroom door without a sound, so as to avoid incurring more of the other man's wrath.

Davis continued on around the balcony, stopping next to Callen and Nell. (That couldn't be a good sign.) He stared at them a little too long before speaking. "I got a call from the owners today. I've been told to inform you that what happened last night will never happen again, you have our complete assurance. And I'm…personally apologizing." The words obviously pained him.

Nell was about to thank him when, to her surprise, Callen spoke first. "You can tell them that we don't know if that's good enough."

Davis seemed at a loss – and for the first time that Nell had seen, somewhat nervous. "We, uh…again…I apologize for it."

"Really," Nell said, "it's fine. I'm fine."

"What if you weren't?" Callen insisted, turning to her. "What if you'd been stuck in the basement all night? What if no one had noticed you were missing?" His voice was rising. "What if something _happened to you_?"

"Nothing did," she tried to remind him, but he wasn't really listening to her.

"That's not good enough!" Callen bit out, turning back to Davis. "It's – it's not _enough_."

"We can probably comp you for the weekend?" Davis suggested. "All of you?"

The conversation only seemed to make Callen angrier the longer it went on. "Oh yeah, that makes up for the danger that your negligence put her in. Money solves everything!"

"Well, it usually does," Davis said, a bit sharply. Nell was becoming more and more convinced that they were the most despised group of guests he'd ever had – and they'd only been there for around 27 hours. (What a record to hold.)

And that was when it occurred to her that technically, they'd only been there for a _day_. Maybe she had to reevaluate some things. It certainly _felt_ like a year…

"Davis, you can go," Nell told him, and he seized the chance to quickly leave, despite Callen's continued protests.

With the other man gone, Callen spun to face her. "Nell, what are you doing?"

She took a step closer to him. "I'm trying to get you to understand that I'm okay. And that you're not _actually_ angry at Davis."

"Yes," he said, bitterly, "I _am_ angry at him."

"Okay, you are," she relented, "but that's not what you're really upset about. You're upset that I might have been hurt."

"I'm not upset, Nell." He took a breath and looked at her like he was willing her to understand. "I'm furious."

She took another step and looked up at him – if she got any closer, they'd be touching. "Not everything is your responsibility, Callen."

"Yes, it is. You _are_. You all are."

"I understand that, but if what happened to me had happened to Sam or Deeks or even Kensi, would you be a fraction this upset? Or would you be laughing it off with them?"

The look on his face was answer enough and Nell's heart sank. "You see me as…weaker than them. Not as able to –"

"No," he interrupted. "No, Nell. Never."

"Then what is it?"

"It's different. You're different!"

"Why?" she persisted.

 _How do you not know why_? he wanted to scream at her. And maybe, he thought, he _should_ just tell her, because it was getting more and more difficult to –

"Hey guys," Deeks interrupted, opening his door and peering out cautiously before coming into the hall again. "Is Davis gone?"

"Yeah, he's gone," Nell said, before turning back to Callen. "Don't think we're done here."

"We might never be done," he warned, as she shot him a questioning look, trying to decide where on the scale of serious vs. teasing that line had fallen.

"Not done with what?" Deeks interrupted, glancing between them.

"Harassing you, Deeks," she said, flippantly.

"I'm going to get back at you for this," Deeks warned, flinging another handful of cards in her direction, in case she forgot what he was referring to.

"It's late and I'm tired," Nell informed him. "Save your complaints for the morning."

"The sun's barely gone down," Callen said, eyeing her. "I think you should see a doctor when we get home. There's something wrong with you."

"So many things," Deeks agreed, smugly, like he thought Callen had made a hilarious joke.

"Don't worry," Nell told them, "I made an appointment with a therapist just to deal with this weekend."

"Can you bring some of our co-workers?" Callen asked, nodding toward Deeks.

"I don't need a therapist," Deeks insisted, as his teammates tried not to laugh.

"He needs a lot more than that," Kensi called from the bedroom.

"That, right there?" Deeks tipped his head toward his room. "That's called deflection and she's a pro at it."

He went back to his room and they could hear him bickering with Kensi all the while. No sooner had he gone inside than Eric emerged from his own room, right next door, eyes wild and expression borderline distraught.

He instantly narrowed his focus on Callen and Nell, face paler than normal – and he was usually white enough to literally pass as a ghost. "I'm glad you're out here," he told them. "I wanted to let you know, before I mysteriously die in the night, that this house is haunted."

He vanished back into his room as Nell and Callen exchanged a concerned look. They followed him, reaching his room in seconds and coming to a halt the moment they stepped inside. It looked like all the others on their floor, except it was a mirror image of the rooms on the opposite side of the balcony. The décor was a mixture of gold, silver, and green, and Nell thought the colors cast an eerie glow around the whole room. Eric was standing near the foot of the bed, staring at a painting above the headboard.

"What is it?" Nell asked, cautiously. Nothing seemed out of place or overly concerning at first glance.

"My room is different than it was earlier," Eric told them, without looking over, and Nell got the sense that he was second-guessing even mentioning it in the first place.

"How so?" Callen asked, doing a quick survey of the room.

"I thought things felt off when I came upstairs earlier, and it just hit me why." Eric pointed at the portrait at the head of his bed. "That wasn't there earlier. I mean, there was a picture, but it was a landscape, not that creepy guy whose eyes follow me around the room."

"One of the staff must have switched the paintings," Callen told him. "Maybe it's a clue. Or maybe it's meant to heighten your sense of unease?"

"Yeah, well, mission accomplished!" Eric snapped, starting to pace.

"Or…maybe they switched the paintings out because they do that occasionally," Nell offered, going with the least sinister explanation possible. "They regularly have a cleaning crew here; I bet they clean the paintings, too."

Even as she spoke, Nell wasn't sure how much she believed her own words, but at least Eric seemed to buy it, since he'd calmed a little – he was no longer pacing, at least.

"You're probably right," Eric said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

"You're letting Deeks' stories from earlier get to you," Callen told him. "You know he's insane. Ignore everything that comes out of his mouth and you'll have a much easier weekend."

"I heard that," Deeks said, popping up in the doorway behind them like, well, an insane person.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Eric gasped, pressing a hand to his heart.

"Sorry, Beale," Deeks said, dismissively. "You gotta be more prepared, than that. If I can scare you by showing up unexpectedly, what are you gonna do when the staff pull out all the stops? Look what they already did to Nell last night!"

Nell shifted uncomfortably and when Callen brushed his hand against hers she smiled at him in gratitude. "What happened to me was an accident," she assured Eric.

"Or so they claim," Deeks said, ominously. "I don't trust the staff, but consider if they _are_ telling the truth…it'd almost be worse because that'd mean the house definitely _is_ haunted. In fact, we should get a better answer to that later - 3 am, to be specific."

Nell knew it was probably a bad idea to ask, but she couldn't help her curiosity. "What happens at 3 am?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he said, as if that were answer enough. When she stared at him blankly, he asked, "Didn't you interview Gretchen?"

Nell shook her head – she hadn't gotten to all the interviews that day. "What'd she say?"

"I shouldn't be sharing this considering you ruined Kensi's night by making her gather over a hundred playing cards…"

Callen knew the quickest method to get Deeks to talk was to act like he didn't care. "Fine, we'll go back to our rooms, then," he said, moving toward the door.

Deeks stepped into his path. "I think it's my duty to tell you – I mean, so you can be prepared." He looked over at Nell. "Both of you."

"I think it's going to _be_ 3 am by the time you get around to the point," Callen sighed.

"When Blackwell's wife died, he sank into a deep depression," Deeks began. "Exactly one week after she was found in the upstairs bathtub, he set up a séance to try and contact her. You see, he didn't appreciate her when she was alive. He tossed her and her love aside, chasing younger, prettier women. But none of them ever _really_ mattered to him the way that she did. It wasn't until she was gone that he realized she was the only woman he truly loved, and the only one who'd truly loved him. Every affair he'd had were with women who were only interested in what he could do for them, what gifts he could buy them – but Lydia, she'd loved him without expectation. So in his overwhelming grief after her death, he told his staff he wanted to speak with his wife again. One last time."

"That's so sad," Nell murmured.

Callen leaned down to her. "Don't be too sympathetic. It's probably made up for the game."

"Not from what I heard," Deeks said. "According to Gretchen, it actually happened. At first, Blackwell couldn't successfully contact his deceased wife. But he kept trying and trying. Finally, after nearly two weeks of attempting to get through to her, he managed to do so. She told him in fury that she didn't care how remorseful he was about the way he'd ignored her when she was alive – it was too little, too late, and he was going to pay for the callous way he'd treated her."

"That's…kind of horrifying," Eric muttered.

"After that night," Deeks continued, "Blackwell stopped doing the séances, but Lydia never went away. Gretchen told me that her spirit is trapped in this house, unable to rest. The staff is sure she's trying to get revenge on her husband. She comes back at 3 am every Saturday morning – the precise time she died – and haunts the house until sunrise."

"Still?" Eric asked, as if he could reason his way out of what Deeks was saying. "Blackwell is long dead, so you'd think his wife would be at rest by now."

"You'd think," Deeks repeated. "But I have it on good authority that she's still here, haunting not only the house but the guests within."

"I didn't want to hear any of that," Eric complained. "Now get out, all of you. I'm barricading my door until morning. Don't expect to see me until the sun's up again!"

They left his room and from the tell-tale scraping they heard, Nell figured he really _was_ moving furniture in front of his door.

Callen was clearly unimpressed with what Deeks had told them, since he announced: "You're crazy. I'm going to bed."

"Don't be so dismissive," Deeks warned him. "And keep in mind that whether or not this is part of the game, there might be strange things happening in the middle of the night." He paused, thoughtfully. "So try not to shoot me – or anyone else – if you catch us wandering the halls."

"I'll try to be careful," Callen said, sarcastically. "Though if I see your face peering out from behind a corner, I don't know how well I'll be able to restrain myself."

"So funny," Deeks admonished, turning to Nell. "See what the rest of us have to deal with?"

"He's not going to shoot you," she promised, as they started back down the hall.

They hadn't made it more than a few steps when Deeks held out his arm to stop them and hissed, "Do you hear that?"

Nell waited, hearing the faint strains of music from far off.

"No," Callen intoned, and even as he spoke, the music seemed to grow louder. "We're deaf."

"Shhhhh," the other man hissed, holding his finger up to his lips. "I want to know where it's coming from."

Deeks slowly crept down the hall, disappearing around a corner. Callen pressed a hand to Nell's arm and they followed their teammate by mutual, unspoken agreement. When they rounded the same corner, Deeks was staring up one of the sets of stairs that led to the third floor.

"It's definitely coming from up there," he said. "Who wants to investigate?"

"You can take this one," Nell told him.

"No, it's fine," Deeks said, moving back. "You can go first. I don't want to steal all the excitement of this weekend from you."

They started arguing over who should go up first and Callen heaved a sigh. "Am I the only adult here?"

They both looked at him and then at each other.

"You're right," Deeks told him. "You should go!"

"Yeah, Callen," Nell smiled at him, mockingly. "You're clearly the _adult_ here."

"My schedule for the night's kind of full," Callen tried, but they'd both taken up stances behind him and it was clear he'd have to fight his way past them to escape; it was probably more trouble than it was worth.

"Well?" Deeks gestured to the stairs.

"Alright," Callen said, abruptly grabbing Nell and pushing her up the stairs ahead of him.

"Hey, wait, I don't want to be on the front line!" she protested, but she was laughing as she tried to stop their progress, and he nearly tripped over her when she came to a determined halt on one of the steps in the middle of the staircase.

"Should have thought of that before," Callen said, into her ear. "If I have to suffer, so do you."

"That hardly seems fair," she argued.

"I've got your back, you two, don't worry," Deeks called after them, as they both turned to see he was still at the bottom of the staircase.

"We're so reassured, Deeks," Callen told him. "You're a real hero."

Nell was laughing hard enough that she didn't protest when Callen took her hand and pulled her with him to the top of the staircase. Once Deeks saw that they'd made it up there alive, he slowly trailed them to the third floor.

The music had gotten louder as they ascended the stairs, and now the song was distinctive enough that they all easily recognized it. It was coming from behind one of the locked bedrooms on the third floor.

"This is a joke," Callen said. "There's no other explanation."

Deeks was nodding enthusiastically. "'Hotel California'. I have to say, if nothing else, their game plan this weekend has been on point."

Nell started humming along without realizing it. When she felt Callen's eyes on her she stopped, self-conscious. "What?"

"You're a traitor," he announced.

"It's catchy!" she protested.

"Don't blame her, Callen." Deeks was in the midst of picking the lock on the bedroom door. "The Eagles have gotten the best of many of us."

He got the door unlocked and when it swung open, they all cringed at the music which was painfully loud now that they were so close to the source. It was annoying enough that Deeks didn't hesitate to enter the room, reaching the old-fashioned record player in a few strides and turning the volume down.

"You're not even going to turn it off?" Callen asked.

"I like it," Deeks grinned. "It sets the mood."

Callen supposed he should have expected as much. "Oh, now you're all about the mood? After you were too afraid to come upstairs? Okay then."

"It's called being _cautious_ ," Deeks said, snidely.

"In other words, you'd rather send your teammates to their possible deaths than risk yourself."

"And if you had perished on those super creepy stairs, I would have been truly sad," Deeks told them. "But I also would have appreciated that your sacrifice meant that I lived."

Nell was lingering in the doorway, smiling to herself at their exchange (and mostly Callen's exasperation at it). She took a step into the room, instantly freezing when she did so. A palpable feeling of dread washed over her and she gripped the edges of the doorframe – whether to stop herself from entering the room or to prevent herself from fleeing altogether, she couldn't say.

She hovered there, half-in, half-out, and watched Callen and Deeks wander around the room, acting as if everything was normal. And everything _was_ normal – at least to them. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary bedroom, similar to the ones downstairs, though perhaps 2/3 the size and more sparsely furnished, maybe because it was supposed to be a more economical room? Or maybe because the staff had moved some stuff out during the renovations? In fact, the furniture was arranged oddly, a queen bed pushed into a corner with a dresser and armchair right up next it, which made accessing the bed a little inconvenient. Across the room was a bureau and a desk situated under a large window that looked out onto the backyard.

Nell attributed her unease to a quirk of her mind, a simple consequence of being in a place she knew she wasn't supposed to go – a place that was decidedly off-limits (the lock on the door had proven that). It also seemed to be a place where people hadn't been in a long time, judging by the way Deeks blew some dust off the top of the desk. If they'd been renovating this room, it hadn't been touched in months. (Apparently the cleaning crew didn't bother trying to access the locked rooms.)

Despite all her rational arguments about why the room felt odd, she couldn't shake the horrible feeling that had settled in her. It was eerily similar to how she'd felt when she stepped through the front door yesterday. And it was _much_ too close to how she'd felt when she was trapped in the basement.

That was when Callen glanced over at her, clearly surprised to find her still in the doorway.

He looked from her face to her hands, which were holding onto the frame so tightly her knuckles were turning white. He was back at her side in a second. "What is it?"

She forced herself to let go of the frame. "This room. This _place_. It doesn't feel…strange to you?"

"Should it?" he asked, cautiously.

"I don't know, maybe it's a draft. This room, it's just…" She stopped talking, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill – but there wasn't one and they both knew it.

"What?" he prodded.

"Wrong," she whispered. "It feels _wrong_."

"I'm with Nell," Deeks said, agreeably, though he didn't seem to notice the extent of her discomfort as he flipped through a stack of records. "It's like they've manufactured the whole experience to scare us as thoroughly as possible."

"Well," she told him, shortly, "it's working."

"Come on, Nell," Deeks urged, "just power through. Remember that it's all fake. Unless you're admitting the possibility that it's not?"

Nell would have replied, except she heard footsteps coming down the hall and turned to greet whoever it was – but there was no one there. It must have been her imagination running away again.

She turned back to the room and not a moment later she _felt_ someone walk behind her in the hallway, slight movement of air brushing against the back of her neck, stirring her hair. She spun around, almost angrily, and stepped out to look in both directions, but no one was there.

A hand on her shoulder had her twisting away, instinctively lashing out to try and hurt whoever it was – but it was Callen and he easily blocked her. To his credit, he pushed her away from him instead of putting her in a hold that would have only caused her further panic. It took Nell a moment to realize what had happened.

"While I'm impressed," Callen said, "what if that wasn't me, but Deeks? You could have really injured him."

"Thanks, Callen," Deeks said, dryly.

"Maybe people shouldn't sneak up on me," Nell said, annoyed, though she suspected Callen knew her irritation was only because of how shaken she was.

"You knew Deeks and I were right here," Callen pointed out. "Who else would have touched you?"

"I don't know. I thought I heard someone…" She checked the hallway in both directions again, but it was as empty as it had been the first time around.

"I don't care what you said earlier, you're not okay," Callen insisted, as she pushed him back into the bedroom and shut the door behind them.

Even if there _was_ something off with the room, it was better than being out in the hallway…with ghosts. "I'm fine," she lied, "but let's just leave the door shut for now."

"Good idea, Nell," Deeks nodded at her. "We don't want Davis to come wandering up here and kick us out. Not when I'm sure there are clues to be found."

Callen clearly wasn't thrilled at Nell's actions. "If we get locked in here, I'm sending Deeks out the window for help," he threatened.

"We're three stories up!" Deeks protested.

Callen shrugged. "That's your problem, not mine."

Oddly enough, their familiar bickering helped Nell feel better and she forcefully shoved aside her worry about the room and whatever had (or hadn't?) happened in the hallway. From the way Callen was looking at her, she could tell he was still concerned, but he obviously didn't want to start grilling her in front of Deeks. She appreciated that – she'd have to tell him so later.

She ran her hands over her face, trying to stave off a sudden wave of tiredness. Or more accurately…exhaustion. She hadn't slept much last night and she'd been pushing herself non-stop all day. The bed in the corner seemed pretty tempting and it _was_ nicely made even if the bedding itself looked like it was from the 80's: garishly large flowers in bright pastels were splashed all over the comforter.

She didn't look at Callen, trying to avoid his worry, and went over to the bed, pressing her hands on it cautiously. When it didn't collapse, she carefully climbed onto it and laid down with a sigh, shutting her eyes. "You guys have got this, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, don't worry yourself," Callen told her, voice only slightly mocking. "We don't need your help. Why don't you take a nap?"

"Don't mind if I do," she said, brushing her hands over the bedding. She wondered about whoever had last slept in that bed. Had it been a few months? A few years? Who was the last person, or couple, to stay in this room?

Her thoughts drifted further, wondering whose room it had been when Blackwell was alive. She knew that they weren't in the part of the third floor that was the newer construction, which meant this room had existed since the home had been built. Had one of his family members stayed here? Or had it been a servant's quarters or a guest room?

And why was she _so tired_ all of a sudden? She'd been dragging a little this afternoon, but she was used to forcing her way through difficult situations for long hours, sometimes working a couple days straight if necessary. But one night of poor sleep and she thought she might pass out?

Maybe she was getting sick. Or maybe the stress was getting to her.

"You falling asleep on us?" Callen asked, sitting down beside her. She couldn't be sure, but he seemed hesitant to ask the question, almost like he was reluctant to disturb her.

"What? No, I'm wide awake," she insisted, though she didn't open her eyes.

"You _look_ wide awake."

She cracked an eye open. "I am."

"Mmhmm," he said, skeptically. "We haven't found anything."

"Typical – you two can't get anything done without me."

Callen leaned over her, grinning. "Is that so?"

"Don't challenge me," she warned, even as she couldn't help smiling up at him.

"This is a waste of time!" Deeks complained, as Callen and Nell looked over at him. "There's nothing here."

"They wouldn't have set this up without a purpose," Nell argued.

"So you'd think," he grumbled. "Maybe it was meant as a distraction? To throw us off our game?" In his disappointment, he seemed to have forgotten his alternative theory about the building actually being haunted.

"There's probably something here we're missing," Callen suggested, as Deeks examined another empty desk drawer and then shoved it back in, annoyed.

"Good luck to you finding it then. I'm going downstairs," he said, sulking as he left the room.

Nell shut her eyes again. She wasn't sure, but she could have been lying there for a minute or an hour – time seemed suddenly…inconsequential.

It was Callen who eventually snapped her out of her half-asleep state by pushing on her feet so she'd pull them up and he could lie down at the foot of the bed. "Guess that leaves the two of us?"

"What else is new?" she asked. Lately _everything_ seemed to leave the two of them together – or was it that they always chose to be where the other one was?

"How's it going?" Granger asked, suddenly, from the doorway.

"Make that the three of us," Nell whispered, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

"Figures," Callen sighed, sitting up.

"'Hotel California', huh?" Granger asked. "Talk about a throwback. This song came out forty years ago."

Callen opened his mouth, no doubt to make some kind of ill-advised age pun, but Nell lightly kicked him and he said nothing in favor of glaring at her.

"What is it, Agent Callen?" Granger was distinctly amused, having seen what she did. "Looked like you wanted to say something."

"As a matter of fact –"

"He didn't, sir," Nell said loudly to ensure she drowned out whatever Callen might say.

"We've been searching the room," Callen said, sparing a glance at Nell before looking over to their boss. "We haven't found any clues, though."

"I'm sure you didn't if your definition of 'searching' is lounging around," Granger said, acerbically.

"Hey, I spent half the day with you. And Deeks!" Callen reminded him. He laid back down on the bed, this time beside Nell. "That was more than enough torture for one day."

"Believe me, we feel the same," Granger assured him.

"You can tell us, sir," Nell lowered her voice, conspiratorially. "The staff set up this room, right?"

"If they did, they didn't tell me about it," the assistant director claimed.

"He sounds serious," Callen said (as if Granger couldn't hear him), "which means he's probably lying."

"Or telling the truth," Nell offered.

They both nodded at each other and looked over at their boss again.

"Alright, I'm out of here," Granger said, exasperated, as he surveyed his two agents. "I can tell you two are hard at work – far be it from me to bother you."

"I was laying down first," Nell defended herself. "Callen chose to join me after the fact."

"I hope they never charged guests for this room," Callen said. "This bed is horrible."

"Even with me as company?" she teased. "Surely that should upgrade it from like a 5 to an 8."

"Oh yeah, you two have your priorities straight," Granger told them. "And since I apparently don't scare you into even _pretending_ to work anymore, I'm off to go harass whoever else on your team I can find."

"I recommend Deeks," Callen said, as Granger was on his way out the door. "Remind him he can check out any time he wants, but he can never leave."

Granger was laughing as he left and once they couldn't hear him anymore, Nell let her eyes shut again. It wasn't long before she felt herself drifting off. She tried to fight it, but it seemed impossible.

 _Too_ impossible.

She struggled to open her eyes, to sit up, to do _anything_ , but she couldn't move. It felt like she had sleep paralysis and the possibilities slammed into her unrelentingly: What if she couldn't force herself to get up, what if Callen thought she'd fallen asleep, _what if he left her there_ –

"Hey," Callen said, from beside her, and it was like his voice was the catalyst she needed to snap out of whatever was happening to her – she shot up on the bed so fast that her whole body hurt from the sudden movement. She didn't have to say anything, blinking back tears as she turned and threw her arms around him. She had no way to explain the sheer panic and fear she'd just felt.

From the way he hugged her back without question, though, she knew he could sense it.

She had no idea what to tell him. The best she could manage was, "I don't like this room."

"Then by all means," he said, getting off the bed and pulling her along with him, "let's leave it."

 **XXXXXX**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** I haven't forgotten about this story, I'm still committed to finishing it. Thanks to everyone still sticking with me!

 **XXXXXX**

In the midst of nearly incomprehensible terror, Nell sat bolt upright in bed and fumbled for her weapon and the light next to her bed. She managed to switch the light on while grabbing her gun, and did a quick search of the room.

It was empty.

As expected.

The inherent safety of the empty room did absolutely nothing to quell the panic that had arisen in her from the nightmare she'd experienced. She pressed both hands to her face and tried to calm her breathing, even as she knew she wouldn't be falling back to sleep anytime soon. There was no way.

She might have started crying if she thought it'd make her feel any better.

Deciding the best course of action was to distract herself with something – anything – else, she got out of bed and left her room. The hallway was mostly dark, illuminated dimly in the small surrounding area by the light spilling into the hallway from her room. _Great plan_ , she thought. _Ease memories of a horrific nightmare by stumbling around this creepy, labyrinthine, possibly haunted house in the near pitch dark._

No, it _wasn't_ haunted.

Too bad it was easier to believe that when the sun was up.

She glanced up and down the hall. It was dark and silent no matter which direction she looked. She shut her eyes to listen for anything out of the ordinary and was greeted only by silence. She guessed it was sometime in the middle of the night. Sam and Eric had both been up when she went to bed (she'd drifted off to the sounds of them arguing – Sam had found some of the back passageways and was trying to convince Eric to join him in exploring them). She wondered if they'd ever gone, and if so, had they returned or were they still roaming around lost in the house somewhere?

Kensi and Deeks had actually turned in at a reasonable time, but that was only because Deeks wanted to be 'well-rested' for the séance he planned later that night. (When he'd invited Callen along, the older man had just laughed and walked away, so Deeks had taken it as a 'maybe'.)

She stood near the balcony railing for a few moments before catching movement to her right which caused her heart to thunder in her ears until she realized it was curtains fluttering on the opposite side of the landing. ( _Or did a ghost move the curtains?_ said a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Deeks.) It had to be a draft, but she hadn't felt any air when the curtains moved…

She had two options: go back to her quiet room and face down her nightmare alone or continue her ill-advised attempt at exploration. Both options were so appealing…

All the bedroom doors she could see were shut except her own, and none had light coming from under their doors except Granger's on the other side of the landing. Well, she wasn't going to go looking to _him_ for comfort, that was for sure.

Since Eric's door was also shut, she assumed he'd come back and gone to bed. She debated waking him; he wouldn't turn her away. He'd have no problem trying to talk her down from her dream ( _nightmare_ ), but she just wasn't comfortable telling him about it. It was too…awful. It wasn't fair to burden him with her issues when he was already on edge.

Or maybe her 'reasons' were excuses because she simply didn't want to talk to him in the first place.

She wanted to talk to someone else.

Her eyes moved over to Callen's room and she tried to tell herself that his closed door was a sign. She absolutely should _not_ go over there and knock.

She sighed in annoyance at herself. Why did she think the things she did, why did she feel the way she felt? It was one of the worst ideas she'd ever had, it could go wrong in _so many ways_. And yet it didn't matter, because a person couldn't 'logic' their way out of emotions. She was never going to be able to talk herself out of the way she felt.

But that didn't mean she ever had to act on it, right?

She had to stop doing this; she had to stop wanting Callen to help her when she should be helping herself. And she resolved to start that moment.

She didn't need anyone's help to get over a silly nightmare – no, _dream_. She was an intelligent adult who possessed more than enough faculties to talk herself down from an understandable reaction to a _dream_ that had caused her distress.

Except just thinking about said dream caused her heart to beat faster as she struggled to breathe.

She debated going downstairs to do some more research into their 'case', but as she looked over the railing, down the staircase that descended into the inky depths below, no amount of telling herself that she could simply go downstairs (switching the lights on and banishing the darkness) would convince her to do it. Nor could she stomach going back to her room – the thought of shutting the door, turning the light off and trying to go back to sleep made her feel physically ill.

Besides, she was shaking too badly.

She took a dozen steps down the hallway, coming to a hesitant stop outside the next closed door. _What are you doing, you just said you would be fine alone!_ And yet…she wasn't fine. This didn't have anything to do with him, but rather the simple need to talk to a friend. (Yes, that was it, that made sense.)

Still, was it acceptable to wake him? Probably not, since this wasn't any kind of emergency…but if he was awake already, that was completely different, right?

For a few long minutes, she stood there, listening quietly for any sound that would give her permission to enter. She was creative – she could come up with an excuse if only the faintest hint was given to her. Murmured voices or a muffled thud or even excessive creaking – she'd take _anything_ as a pretense to enter his room. She could lie and say the sounds had woken her up and she wanted to check with someone to make sure everything was fine.

Except there was nothing, literally nothing, except the silent house. _Come on_ , she begged of (curiously enough) the house itself, _I can't even get some rattling pipes or the scratching of a tree on an outside window or a distant howl of wind?!_ The mansion had not been this preternaturally silent in the 2 days they'd already spent there. It was like it was deliberately ignoring her wishes in an attempt at making her suffer.

Without realizing what she was doing (though she fully knew why she was doing it), she leaned against the bedroom door and pressed her ear against it. In the movies it always worked to help people hear sounds within another room…or should she go find a glass? A quick glance back at the staircase nixed that idea quickly.

Far be it from helping, she actually thought she heard even _worse_ this way, as the door muffled all sound against her left ear. She shut her eyes to help focus and tried not to breathe, thoughts of curtains moving for no reason lingering at the back of her mind. It was useless, though – she'd have to either knock or abandon her plan. She pushed herself away from the door and had started to turn when –

"Can I help you?" A voice said from behind her, near her right ear, and three things happened at once: she bit back a scream, instinctively surged forward to get away – though there was nowhere to go with the door in front of her – and the only rational part of her brain still working caused her to throw her right elbow back in an effort at self-defense.

Callen was faster than she was and blocked her efforts, pinning her against the door, entire length of his body pressed against hers.

"Nell," he said calmly, in as reassuring a tone as she'd ever heard from him. He leaned against her, waiting for every part of her mind to recognize him, and they were both aware of the similarities to the night before.

"Callen," she said flatly, a side effect of trying to get her breathing under control. She pressed the left side of her face into the cool door in front of her, seeking some kind of stability. "You're trying to kill me, right?" (Or was that the house?)

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you heard me."

"How could I hear you?" she complained. "You're the quietest person I know."

"You were turning toward me," he pointed out.

"I was reconsidering my ill-advised plan," she admitted, slightly embarrassed.

He took a step back, but only enough to pull her away from the door so she was now leaning against him instead. He put his arms over her shoulders, no doubt able to feel the tension slowly leave her.

"Let's rewind to my earlier question," he said, and she could practically hear his smile. "How can I help you…at one in the morning?"

She sighed almost inaudibly and reluctantly turned around so she could face him, causing him to drop his hold on her. He looked concerned and she once again wondered if this was her best course of action. The last thing she wanted was to seem weak in front of him. And it wasn't like she had an _actual_ problem. (After all the things they'd lived through, a nightmare definitely didn't count.)

"I…" she trailed off, shrugging. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned back into the door. She chose the worst possible timing, since it happened to coincide with the exact moment Callen twisted the doorknob and her support was gone in an instant.

She stumbled back, scrambling to grab hold of him, though she needn't have bothered since he already had his free hand around her arm and abruptly pulled her forward again, saving her from an ungraceful fall that would have likely drawn more than one of their sleeping friends in what would have been an uncanny (and terrible) replay of the night before.

She let out a sigh of relief, realized she was holding the front of his shirt in a death grip and very carefully released him. He let go of her and she took a step away, then another. More space was better, she thought rationally, even as every _irrational_ part of her urged her to step back towards his warmth – to get as close to him as possible.

He'd flipped the lights on and shut the bedroom door behind him. He was now leaning against it, watching her appraisingly. Well, he hadn't kicked her out. That was a good sign. Then again, she had pretty much just walked (well, fallen) into his room uninvited.

"So…you're awake," she settled for stating the obvious in a mildly disapproving tone, "and wandering the house at one in the morning."

Of freaking _course_ he was.

"As are you," he pointed out.

"At least I'm not going around scaring people," she shot back, trying to make a joke of it despite her acute embarrassment at how she'd reacted to his unexpected appearance. She swore she wasn't normally this jumpy. It was the house, it _had_ to be. It left her questioning herself, and her sanity, at every single turn.

His eyes darkened at her words. "First of all, it was the furthest intention from my mind to scare you – like I said, I thought you heard me walking over." He appeared genuinely distressed at that fact, since her reaction had been one of fear and not humor. "Secondly, you stopped fighting when you recognized me. I have no doubt if I'd been someone else, you would have put your training to good use."

Like usual, he'd somehow read her mind. More than her reaction, she'd been annoyed at how poorly she'd fought back. Maybe she could still blame the horrible dream she'd had and how much it had shaken her. (And it was all the more brutal because it was based on a reality she had actually experienced more than once in the past few years.)

"Why were you outside my room?" he asked.

She didn't want to tell him and yet she _did_ want to. She couldn't and she also _had_ to. It was a strange dichotomy, feelings pulling her in opposite ways – _what would he think? What would he do?_ And in the end, it didn't matter because she had to share it with someone…no, not someone (not anyone), _him_.

When she didn't answer, he continued the questions. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" There was growing alarm in his voice, and she was relieved – not at his tone but at the mere fact of his concern, that tangible proof that he cared. (She couldn't say when that had started happening. Maybe there was no 'starting'; maybe it had always been there.)

Was she okay? She stared at the floor beneath her stocking-clad feet, absently bending her toes. She thought she was okay, and a big part of that had to do with his presence, but part of her still doubted… "I don't know," she answered honestly, risking a glance up at him. The very sight of him caused her shoulders to relax, made her want to step forward and touch him.

But she didn't.

He straightened, instantly more alert at the potential of a threat in the vicinity of which he'd been unaware. "You don't know?"

"It's fine. I'll be fine," she said to try and calm him – it hadn't been her intention to come here and upset him. It wasn't his fault that he was the only calm she could find right then. Maybe switching topics would serve to distract both of them. "Where were you? What were you doing?"

He carefully studied her. "There's this saying about a pot. And a kettle? I can't quite recall."

She couldn't help smiling at that, weak though it was.

"What's going on?" he repeated, when she continued to stand five feet away from him without moving.

She debated whether it was worth telling him…but had she ever really considered not doing so? She'd pretty much made up her mind the second she glanced at his door and started searching for any excuse she could to open it and see him.

Something solid hit the back of her legs and she realized she'd backed up far enough to hit the end of his bed. She put her arms behind her to lean against it. "I had a dream." It was the most innocuous description she could come up with, though she didn't know why she bothered. She was going to tell him; it was inevitable.

He said nothing, just continued to watch her as his eyes silently asked every question he didn't say out loud.

She felt tears pricking at her eyes, unused to that kind of worry from anyone, least of all… Look, the fact was she was quite adept at dealing with her own problems and she tried not to drag anyone else into them, ever. She kept her issues to herself – she'd long ago mastered the art of talking to Eric all day long without ever _saying_ anything of consequence. It was rare that she revealed anything truly personal about herself, and it took a monumental amount of effort to share even a minor problem with Kensi when the two of them spent time together alone.

So when she had the opportunity to actually talk about something that was deeply troubling her, it was harder than she thought it'd be. (And even with that knowledge, she knew she wasn't the most guarded person in the room.)

Maybe sensing she needed to compose her thoughts, Callen moved to the side of the bed. He perched on the edge of the mattress, watching her with an intensity that would have taken her breath away if she'd been inclined to let it go.

"You don't have to tell me about it if you don't want to," he said, slowly. He knew better than most about keeping things locked away; things a person didn't want to share. "But I would like it if you did."

She didn't realize she'd clenched her hands into fists again until she felt sharp stabs of pain in both of her palms and glanced down to see her nails digging into them. The memories assaulted her, bleeding together with real life experiences. She couldn't tell where the nightmare ended and the memories began; that was the _real_ problem.

She'd always been prone to nightmares, but she'd learned to dismiss them as the troubled imaginings of an unconscious mind. Tonight, when the dream blended into real life experiences, she could no longer shove it away into a distant corner of her mind to forget about…like she'd been doing for years.

"I was…" she trailed off, rubbing her hand over her face, irrationally feeling as if saying it out loud would make her weaker somehow.

"Nell."

She looked up, taking in his serious expression in the dimly lit room, and trying to feel as safe as her mind told her she was. With him. She took another deep breath and let it out in a hurried rush: "Iwasmurdered."

It only took him a beat to place the necessary spaces in that short sentence and a look crossed his face that she found immensely distressing. She had _never_ wanted to cause him pain, and it made her feel even worse that he'd feel it on her behalf. It was like she'd _caused_ it.

She was already leaning on the foot of the bed so she eased back onto it, sitting and clasping her hands behind her back. She looked down at her feet again, wondering how to fix what she'd done, how she could convince him she'd been joking or trick him into thinking she was in a much better place than she actually was.

"Nell," she heard him say, but she hadn't come up with a plan yet, so she refused to turn and look at him.

She felt the bed shift and knew he was moving closer. She had a fleeting thought of standing up and walking across the room to put distance between them, but she couldn't.

He must have taken her stillness as invitation (or acceptance) and put his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. She should tell him that his comfort wasn't necessary, though it really kind of was. (She kept her mouth shut.)

She reached up to take hold of the arms that surrounded her and bit back saying something that would come off as childish or weak. Something along the lines of _Please never let go of me._

"What happened?" he asked, when it finally became clear she wasn't going to speak again unless he asked.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, not sure she wanted to talk about it, but knowing she had to.

"It was a dream I've never had before," she began, and that in itself was rare. Most of her nightmares were repetitive and recurred like clockwork after suffering a stressful day at work (which usually involved the possibility of one of her team members – most often him – not coming back, a fact which she wouldn't share right then).

He said nothing, and she took the opportunity to appreciate the feel of him behind her, quiet breath on the back of her neck (he'd turned his face down into the top of her head instead of looking straight ahead). He'd always been strong, and for someone who prided herself on being able to stand on her own, she felt a bit ashamed for wondering if she could take some of his strength, just for a little bit. (If he'd be fine sharing it with her.)

"I was in bed in my room here, at the hotel. The door opened and I thought it was –" she held back the word _you_ , not wanting him to feel guilty over the imaginings of her own mind. No part of what she'd dreamed was his fault. "I thought it was one of our team, but they didn't speak and I could hear them breathing loudly and I knew something was wrong."

His arms tightened imperceptibly around her and it was as if she could feel the sense of comfort he was trying to broadcast to her as loudly as he could without words.

"I went to reach for the lamp at the side of the bed, but before I could reach it, the…person, was in bed with me, and I couldn't react. I tried to roll away and grab my gun, but…" whoever it was had been on top of her and –

"You didn't win," he said finally.

Once she'd started, it was like she couldn't stop. "I couldn't move, I couldn't get away. He had his hands around my throat and he – he was choking me. He strangled me. I couldn't throw him off, I couldn't fight him. I could only lie there and let it happen. I was crying and trying to beg him for mercy and then I felt myself losing consciousness and…that was it. I knew I was dead and everything went black. That's when I woke up." She'd had a number of bad dreams; she'd even been murdered in them before (a quick gunshot or push down the stairs that woke her instantly). But never, _never_ had she experienced the kind of death she had tonight.

"Nell," he began, as she wrenched herself forward and off the bed.

"I died. He _killed_ me."

This time, he said nothing.

She felt like she should be screaming by this point, so when her next words were a whisper, it surprised her. "He _murdered_ me," she met his eyes with a certain haunted look he'd seen before. She hadn't _needed_ to imagine it, or dream it. She knew firsthand what it felt like to have someone try to strangle her to death.

And so did he.

That was the real horror of it – her nightmare wasn't imagined. It was a _memory_.

"I can't…" she absently pulled at the collar of her shirt, even though it wasn't tight. "Anything near my neck, it bothers me. Ever since…" She shut her eyes.

Since the first time she'd nearly died at a suspect's hands.

"It's usually not so bad," she told him, "but it's like his hands are on me, even now. I couldn't stay in bed and… _feel_ that. I just couldn't. And that's why I was outside your door in the middle of the night."

"I wish you'd never had to live that," he told her, softly.

She reached a hand up to her neck, tentatively brushing the skin there and shivering. "I can still feel it. Sometimes I think it'll never go away."

He was silent for a minute, giving her an assessing look. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said, without hesitation.

"Then switch the lights off and come here."

She slowly complied, expecting the room to get completely dark, but she hadn't realized the light in the connecting bathroom was on, which lit up the room well enough for her to make it to the bed without tripping or fumbling around in the dark.

He motioned for her to get in the opposite side of the bed. The side she'd slept in last night.

"Are you going to perform some kind of weird meditation thing on me? Because I saw you talking to Deeks earlier about –"

"I wouldn't be cruel enough to subject anyone to his methods of 'spiritual healing'. Lie down."

She did as he asked, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. He moved closer so he was facing her, lying on his right side. They were almost – but not quite – touching.

"I'm going to touch you now," he said, which struck her as so ridiculous that she started laughing.

"You need to work on your seduction techniques. I mean there's mediocre and then there's just sad."

"Not funny," he said, trying to sound stern, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.

Her own mirth vanished a second later when he put his left hand on her neck. Though the pressure was so light as to be nearly undetectable (he was holding his arm up and wasn't even letting the weight of his hand rest on her), she still felt it with the force of her nightmare. He might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water on her for the reaction he got – she stopped breathing.

"Who am I?" he asked.

"I hope you realize we're getting into a really weird realm here," she said, words tight with annoyance.

"Just answer the question."

"What are you doing?" she managed to ask, though it sounded as if he were actually strangling her for how weak the words were.

"Who am I?" he repeated. When she didn't say anything, he added, "It's not a trick question."

"Callen?" she answered, and surprisingly found that saying his name aloud caused her tension to ease somewhat.

"That sounded like a question, but I'll take it."

She sighed. "I know who you are."

In response, he relaxed his arm a bit, allowing the weight of his hand to touch her neck. She instantly tensed up again. "Would I ever hurt you?"

"I know what you're doing," she said, finally getting it, as every instinct in her body screamed at her to push his hand off and get out of bed. He wasn't holding her there, so she had no idea how, or why, she was allowing it.

"Nell," he breathed, voice calm, "would I _ever_ _hurt you_?"

"No."

This time he actually pressed down; it was nowhere close to dangerous or anything that would cut off her air. She pressed against her own skin harder when she was taking a shower, for god sakes, but she couldn't stop her reaction, instinctively grabbing his hand with both of hers.

He waited for her to pull his hand away, insanely impressed when she made a concerted effort to relax and not do so. Her breathing had become quite unnatural and much more rapid, though. He knew it was taking a lot for her to remain next to him.

"You're okay," he reminded her, sensing she needed the vocal reassurance. When she loosened her grip on his hand, he started tracing absent patterns over her skin, gratified when the simple touch relaxed her further.

He'd been unsure about going any further, but she'd tolerated it far better than he'd hoped, so he pressed down with his hand. He was still in no danger of hurting her, but if anyone else had been doing it to her, it would have been the beginning of a warning.

She dug her nails into his hand and her look was nearly one of betrayal. Yet she didn't ask him to stop or try to escape. He hoped that was because she understood what they were doing and not because she was reverting back to allowing the fear to control her.

Her eyes flashed at him. "I don't like it," she bit out.

"Few would," he told her. "You don't have to like it. You also don't have to live in fear of it."

She said nothing.

He leaned closer to her. "Nell, you can still breathe."

She hadn't been aware she'd stopped. She inhaled sharply – he was right, her breathing wasn't hindered in the slightest. The pressure was uncomfortable but not because it hurt – because of her nightmare and the experiences she'd had before that. But she was okay, wasn't she? Maybe he was right; maybe this was something she could eventually get over.

He eased up on the pressure, but left his hand resting on her neck, not feather-light like in the beginning, just the steady, constant weight of his hand. They stayed like that for a few minutes until she turned to face him, so his hand rested on the side of her neck instead of the front. It was marginally better.

"If it didn't matter, I wouldn't have done this," he told her. "But when you're in the field, you can't freeze up or panic if someone tries to grab you that way. Your main focus has to be on getting away, and to do that you need to keep a level head. If you freeze or panic, it's over. _You_ control your reaction – the reaction shouldn't control you."

"I know," she whispered, as he ran his thumb under the line of her chin, and then pulled away. She felt the loss keenly – she didn't miss the touch on her neck, she just missed the connection to him. It was the kind of thing she could get too easily used to.

"Feel any better?" he asked.

"I always feel better with you," she admitted, which maybe wasn't the best thing to say, but she wasn't thinking clearly amidst her newfound exhaustion. They'd had a long day and she hadn't gotten much sleep the night prior, and the nightmare itself had taken a toll on her. "I think I'm going to sleep here," she mumbled, into the pillow.

"So long as you don't mind the very real possibility that Deeks is going to wake me up in two hours to participate in his ridiculous séance."

"I'm sure you can scare him off," she said, mind already drifting. "You don't mind if I stay, right?"

She thought she heard him say she could stay with him forever, but she was half-asleep, so maybe she dreamed it.

Either way, she wasn't leaving.

 **XXXXXX**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN:** I feel it's always worth mentioning that nothing I write will ever go unfinished, and I really appreciate everyone who still enjoys this story after so long!

 **XXXXXX**

"Nell."

Silence.

He whispered a little louder, "Nell."

No reaction.

He tapped her shoulder. "Are you awake?"

She gave up, knowing there was no way to ignore him. "Do I _look_ awake?"

"The talking would indicate a strong likelihood for 'yes'."

He'd flipped on the lamp on the bedside table (replaced earlier by Davis) and though it wasn't overly bright, it made her recoil. "What is sleep? I think I vaguely remember, but it's distant, like a dream…"

"Stop complaining. You just got," he checked his phone, "47 minutes."

She pulled the blanket almost over her head. "Why are you torturing me?"

He didn't answer her question, saying instead, "I once stayed awake for 76 hours in Kosovo."

"What does that have to do with _me_?"

"I'm just saying."

"Sorry that I'm not some kind of CIA-trained, Black Ops assassin. Or whatever it was that you did before NCIS."

"I like that description," he said, and she could hear his smile.

"I'm never going to get a decent night's sleep in this place, am I?"

He leaned over her to try and see her face. "You're the one who decided to stay in my room."

"I don't remember you telling me to leave."

A thud from above them had her ripping the blanket off and sitting up abruptly, almost hitting him in the process. (When had he gotten that close?)

"What is that?" she asked, warily.

He was pointing at the ceiling. "We've gotten to the reason why I asked if you were awake." He wasn't too happy, either. "We need to work on your sleep awareness if that didn't wake you."

"The point of sleep is to be unaware, Callen."

"Maybe for normal people."

She absolutely wasn't going to argue the point – not when it might mean he'd enroll her in some kind of weird new training. (Or worse, decide they _all_ needed lessons and teach them a class he created himself.)

Another thud had her gripping the blanket tighter. This weekend was going to leave a scar on her psyche or something. "Maybe someone is doing some late-night searching," she suggested, looking for the most innocuous explanation possible, even though it made little sense. It wasn't like they were in a race to see who could solve the mystery first, and they also had two more full days to look around.

"It's probably nothing," Callen said, agreeably. But she knew he wouldn't have woken her if he wasn't at least mildly concerned. "I would have let you sleep while I checked it out, but…"

"Don't tell me that you didn't want to leave me here alone." She was used to the protective side of him. He'd always been that way with her, with everyone. It seemed to be more evident the better she knew him and the closer they got. (Even when it made her want to shake her head, she was more grateful for it than not.)

He'd gotten up and come around to stand next to her side of the bed. "I need you for back-up."

"Your partner is in the next room." She pulled the blanket over her head again. "Good luck."

"Not back-up for me." He pulled the blanket off her. "For whoever it is out there that I might 'accidentally' shoot. I'm guessing there's a 98% chance it's Deeks."

She eyed him, knowing him better than that. (It might be part of the reason, but not the whole reason.) " _And_ you didn't want to leave me here alone."

His silence was answer enough.

"We are not in any danger here," she said, even though she didn't fully believe her own words. She tried to wake up more by rubbing her eyes, but it wasn't working. She was beginning to realize she'd been woken out of a particularly deep sleep.

"We're probably safe," he agreed, "but it never hurts to be on guard. You want to know the most dangerous places in the world? They're the places you think there's no danger. They're where you let your guard down because nothing would ever happen to you there. The parking lot of a store you regularly frequent. A main street in broad daylight. Your _workplace_." His voice was growing in volume incrementally, not enough to rouse the others, but enough for her to take notice.

"Your home?" she challenged, trying to get him to see her point that maybe sometimes there was such a thing as too much vigilance.

"Yes."

It figured he'd think that; no wonder he'd turned his house into a veritable fortress. "Callen…"

"You told me an hour ago that you remember dying, what it feels like. Know what I remember?" He was staring at her intently. "I remember _watching_ you almost die."

"I know," she said. He was referring to a few years earlier, in the boat shed, when she'd been alone and had almost been overpowered by a suspect (the very incident which spurred a lot of her nightmares, in fact). She understood, then, that telling him about her nightmare, about the fears she still had, must have triggered his own cascade of terrible memories surrounding that time. She hated seeing that awful look in his eyes and held out her hand; when he took it, instead of letting him help her up, she pulled until he was sitting next to her on the edge of the bed.

"You don't know," he whispered. "I would have killed him. Sam wouldn't have been able to stop me. It might have ruined my life, cost me my career, and I wouldn't have cared. Nothing would have mattered after that, not if you…"

 _Were gone_.

He didn't finish the sentence, but she heard him anyways. She'd known it had affected him, she'd just never known how much. All she could think to say was, "I'm still here."

He hadn't let go of her hand and briefly gripped it tighter. "Yes, you are."

That memory still haunted him; he knew it would forever. He and Sam had barely arrived in time. She'd put up a good fight, the best she could, but she'd already been losing when they got there, and she would have died. It was one of the memories he pulled up from time to time (or rather, forced himself to relive in agonizing detail) whenever he worried he might be getting too complacent, too comfortable.

Both of those things could get him, or someone around him, killed.

Right then, however, Nell wasn't privy to his thoughts or the ways in which he'd tortured himself about an incident she actively tried to forget. She was wondering about the lengths he went to in order to feel safe. They were probably beyond extreme. It explained why he'd trained himself to become as lethal as he had. She wondered if even once in his life he'd ever been able to enter a new situation and feel completely, perfectly safe. Thanks to his childhood…probably not.

It had to be a stressful way to live. And lonely. And exhausting.

It made her tired just thinking about it. She was exhausted _for_ him.

"I get what you're saying, Callen, and it pays to be prepared. We all know that and we do the best we can. But you can take a hundred precautions anywhere and your safety is never guaranteed. That's a part of life. At what point do you stop? Is an extra bit of safety worth the price of living behind a dozen walls?"

They both knew she wasn't only talking about security in a physical sense, either.

"It's worth it if no one else can get in."

"Don't you see the flip side to that, Callen?" She paused, allowing her next words to resonate: " _No one else can get in_."

He appeared to think on that before something in his face changed. "You're wrong."

"How am I wrong?"

"You're here," he said, simply, as if it were a self-evident fact she should have already known.

She tried not to roll her eyes. "I don't count."

"Oh," he laughed, "you count."

She sat up straighter, intent on arguing. "I have to be here. You have to accept me because I'm part of your team. That does not count."

"I don't _have_ to accept anything or anyone. I could have transferred you like _that_." He snapped his fingers to illustrate his point.

Well, he was right. Technically, Granger had the final say on where she was placed, but she knew if Callen (or the others) hadn't wanted her on their team, she wouldn't have been allowed to stay. Still, he was missing the main point. "See, you're making my argument for me. Once I became part of your team, you were naturally inclined to let me get closer than any outsiders. I was like…a Trojan horse."

There was one thing about that he could certainly agree on. "I never saw you coming."

"And by the time you did, it was too late," she said triumphantly. "I was already inside."

"You realize this analogy would end with you brutally murdering me."

She frowned at him. "Well, let's not take it that far, then. My point stands, though. Do you concede?"

"If I'm following along here – and we're ignoring the murdering part – you've revealed yourself to me. Now, I know that you got in through underhanded methods." He'd stood up again and his tone had turned unexpectedly serious. "What should my next move be?"

She hadn't really thought it through, but she was beginning to think she'd just persuaded Callen to cut her off from every part of his life that mattered. Her heart started racing with panic as her mind screamed at her that she'd been trying to convince an incredibly guarded man that he couldn't trust her. She got up on her knees on the bed and her mouth felt dry as she managed one word: "Don't."

He picked up on the edge in her voice. "Don't what?"

"Don't shut me out," she pleaded. And every trace of humor and teasing was gone. When he didn't immediately answer, she went with her next instinct, which she knew could backfire immensely. (She couldn't _not_ tell him, though.) "If you try, I won't go."

"Nell." He took a step closer to where she was kneeling on the bed; they were at about the same height this way. "You're not some Trojan horse – that makes it sound so sinister, as if caring about someone can be sinister. Where are you right now?" He held his arms out wide, in question.

"In your room?"

"And who else is here?"

"Uh…you?"

"Right, yes, _me_ ," he sounded a bit exasperated. "But aside from us?"

"No one."

"No one," he repeated, carefully. "There's never anyone else here except you. You could have left, and you didn't. Why?"

She knew, instinctively, that he wasn't talking about the room anymore. Maybe he never had been. For all she'd said about him letting her in, she'd been equally as much a part of it. It wasn't possible to let someone in if they weren't _trying_ to get in.

When she spoke again, it was a whisper. "I like it here."

"I like _you_ here."

She searched his eyes and couldn't help her smile at his honest sentiment. That was his answer, wasn't it? Why he'd been allowing her to get closer – whether he'd initially been aware of it or not.

Another thud from above had them both looking up at the ceiling in mild alarm.

He absently took her arm to help her step off the end of the bed. He'd forgotten why they were awake in the first place.

And with that, Nell was reminded how tired she was. "I vote we ignore it."

"Where's your adventurous spirit?"

"If you shoot one of our friends in the middle of the night, Granger is _not_ going to approve."

"What if it's Granger I shoot?" he countered.

"We might lose the game. What was left of it."

"So you're saying he'd let us go home early…I'll make sure to aim for him if I have my choice of targets out there."

She couldn't help stretching and caught him watching her. "What time is it?"

"2:06 am." He tucked his gun into the small of his back and then tipped his head, indicating she should follow him.

What else was she going to do now that he'd woken her up in the middle of the night, for a matter that was probably nothing, but that his paranoid nature wouldn't allow him to forget until he'd investigated it? Most people probably would have shaken their head at him and gone back to bed, but she wasn't most people. And he wasn't someone she could ever dismiss that easily and with so little regard. He never had been.

The real truth, though, was that she'd follow him anywhere.

They stepped into the hallway, both struggling to listen for any foreign sounds in the house, anything that might be out of place.

She spoke in a whisper, "Old houses make lots of strange sounds. Maybe that's what we heard."

"I know the difference between creaking floorboards and something that doesn't fit."

All their bedrooms were situated near the front part of the house, so they turned left in the hallway to head toward the back of it. As they passed Sam's room, Callen paused, debating waking his partner, and ultimately decided against it. He and Nell were more than capable of investigating; they didn't need to wake half the house, especially in the (likely) case it ended up being nothing.

As they went down the preternaturally quiet hallways, Nell rubbed her arms – she'd been unusually cold in this house since the moment she'd stepped through the front door. The bedrooms were warmer, probably because the doors were closed at night and that kept the heat in. There was no reason to have the heat turned up in the unoccupied rooms or hallways overnight. The house had been overhauled many times since it was built and each room had its own thermostat, presumably so guests could be comfortable.

Well, she wasn't comfortable.

"I'm freezing," she whispered. "Be right back." She returned to Callen's room and grabbed a zip-up sweatshirt from where he'd tossed it on the couch. (She only had a handful of sweaters that were much thinner.) The second she had his sweatshirt on, she felt 100% better. Amazing what being warm could do to a person.

When she returned to the end of the hallway where she'd left him, Callen was nowhere to be found. She spun slowly in a circle, pulling the sweatshirt tighter around her. If this was some kind of joke on his part…

"Callen?" she called, quietly. He didn't respond, which meant wherever he was, he couldn't hear her.

She wasn't sure which direction to go. None of the secluded halls seemed inviting. She didn't want to go back to the bedroom, not when he'd been expecting her to follow him, and she didn't want to wander off on her own in the middle of the night. Most of her anxiety about the house disappeared when she was with him because there was no one she felt safer with, but that also meant his absence left her feeling all the more vulnerable.

She tried to talk herself out of it. She was capable. She could take care of herself. And there was nothing to fear from this place, no matter _what_ her mind told her when her eyes fell on dark corners and hallways.

She imagined the map in her head, trying to envision the route he might have taken to get to the third floor. She turned a corner, and at the end of that hall, she took a right turn. Where was the back stairwell? She took another right turn and walked straight into Callen – thank God she was able to ascertain that before she started screaming.

"Where have you been?" he hissed, gripping her shoulders, and was that the slightest hint of fear in his voice? She knew he wasn't afraid of anything in the house, which meant he must have been afraid because he'd lost her.

She was too busy looking around to fully take in what he was saying. She couldn't believe where they were standing – at the front of the house, right near her bedroom. She was positive she hadn't gone in a circle, she hadn't taken enough turns…had she?

"I've been looking for you for nearly twenty minutes," he said, keeping his voice low. "I was about thirty seconds away from waking everyone to have them help me look for you."

"Twenty – no way, we left the room not even five minutes ago," she said. To that, he held out his phone to her. The time read 2:28. "It has not been that long," she insisted, voice not as sure as it should have been. "And you were the one who vanished, not me."

"I was in one of the offices and I found what I'm pretty sure was a secret passageway. It closed behind me before I could stop it. Thankfully it wasn't a dead end or a trap. I ended up in the kitchen. When I got back to the second floor, you were gone. Thus began twenty minutes of searching for you."

She felt an odd shiver run down her spine. The longer she was in this house, the more she didn't like it. (Or rather, she didn't like the way it made her _feel_.)

"We're not splitting up again," he said, grasping her hand as if to make a point. Like it was possible she'd try to run away or something.

She tried to imagine getting caught in a forgotten hidden passage, with no way out, and felt her blood run cold – much the way it had when she'd been stuck in the basement. Or after the nightmare she'd had.

She wasn't claustrophobic, but one of her worst fears was being buried alive – the basement had been bad enough and the only reason she hadn't had a panic attack down there was due to its spaciousness and the knowledge in the back of her mind that she probably could have broken through the lock on the back door to get out.

"Where was this office with the secret passage?" she asked, warily, wanting to ensure she avoided it.

He gestured behind him. "A few rooms down. I'm actually glad you weren't with me," he added. And of course, _of course_ , he knew about a fear she'd never explicitly mentioned. She was beginning to think there wasn't anything that Callen didn't know about her. Or any of his team, really.

"Which way are the stairs?" She thought she'd known, but now she was convinced she'd gotten turned around again.

"Should be down the next hall," he said, pointing back the way she'd come from. "I was up there earlier and – is that my sweatshirt?"

"Yup." She hesitated, realizing she probably should have asked him before taking his clothes. She reached for the zipper to take it off. "Sorry, none of my stuff is that warm, so I –"

He put his hands over hers, stilling her movements. "Stop, it's fine. It looks better on you anyway."

"It doesn't fit me," she pointed out.

"Still looks better," he assured her, taking her hand again. "Come on."

She was content to let him lead since he seemed to know where he was going, and sure enough, they were soon at the stairs that led to the third floor. She didn't hesitate to follow him up there, if only because it was far more preferable to stay by his side than to wait around on the second floor, waiting for him to investigate on his own and then return.

The halls on the third floor branched off in various directions. Nell didn't want to spend time checking every room for whatever was making that noise – and she was spared doing so when they heard another thud, this time much more distinct, and coming from the far end of the house, pretty close to where Callen's room should be situated under them.

"A ghost," Nell breathed.

"I will personally haul Deeks up here and apologize to him if that's the case," Callen swore. He held out an arm to hold her back while he looked around the corner, but she was having none of it and pushed past him to find…Deeks. He was at the end of the hall trying to open a door, and that had been the thudding they'd heard, his repeated attempts to pry it open.

"You have got to be kidding me," Callen lamented.

"Some of us are trying to sleep," Nell informed Deeks, as they approached their wayward teammate.

"Nell, Callen, how convenient the two of you would show up together! Almost as if you were coming from the same place…"

Nell expected Callen's usual flat denial of even the mere possibility, so it greatly surprised her when he said coolly, "Where I spend my nights – and with whom – is none of your business."

Deeks' eyes practically lit up with glee. "Aha! I knew –"

"Unless you want me to make where you spend your nights _my_ business."

Deeks never knew when he was supposed to be deterred. "Now Callen, I know we're closer than before, but I don't think we're ready for that step in our relationship yet."

Nell spoke before Callen could. "Explain what the hell you're doing that has cost me over a half hour of my sleep so far tonight."

"As if you were sleeping. Am I right?" He winked at her.

Nell smoothly stepped in front of Callen to stop him before he could even take a step. "Deeks."

"Don't pretend like you don't know why I'm here," he said, by way of an answer. "I've only told you both a dozen times."

"I was hoping that might have been a joke," Callen said, sounding disappointed in himself. "I should have known better."

Deeks paid no mind to his discouraging words. "The ghost appears at 3 am. It's 2:33, so you're in time to help me set up."

"You want to put us to _work_?" Callen was incredulous.

"What, you expect me to do everything?" Deeks laughed, as if that were absurd, then pointed at a box near his feet. "Two dozen candles ready to be lit. You can be in charge of that, Callen."

"Right, lighting two dozen fires in a hundred-year-old deathtrap of a mansion is an _excellent_ idea. Remember that when the place goes up like kindling. And don't expect me to save you."

"It's called setting the mood," Deeks said, cheerfully. "I'm glad you and Nell came up here of your own volition – it saved me having to come get you! We have to get up into the attic." He gave the attic door another sharp kick, then pulled, and this time it gave with plenty of protest. "Damn doors in this house. You know, I was up here earlier and it wasn't sticking like this."

Callen glanced down the hall where they'd come from. "I can't believe you didn't drag Kensi with you."

"Oh, he did," Kensi said, from a nearby room, and Nell went over to find her sitting mutinously on a couch in yet another unused guest bedroom. "I'm protesting. Don't tell me he got it open."

"Kens, it's open," Deeks yelled, and then his face appeared in the doorway. "You promised."

Kensi stood, with great reluctance, and followed him out of the room and up the short staircase into the attic, grumbling in protest the entire way.

"Remember those candles," Deeks called back to Callen and Nell.

"Right," Callen said, starting to walk away. "Time to get back to bed."

"Aren't you curious?" Nell asked.

He spun back to face her. "Um. No."

"Come on you guys," Deeks' voice came from slightly above them. "Live a little."

"Or take the risk of dying in a fiery inferno," Kensi called down. "Either, or."

Callen pointed at the stairs and sent Nell a 'See what I'm talking about?' look.

"Come on, guys, I can't do this without you," Deeks yelled.

"Don't leave me up here to suffer alone," Kensi begged.

"You know you want to go up there," Nell told Callen, not turning away from him as she stepped up onto the first stair that led to the attic.

"I do not. Let it go on the record that this is against my will," he said, even as he grabbed the box of candles and followed her. He'd long suspected, but now he knew the truth: he really would do whatever she wanted. Even if it meant he had to spend time with Deeks.

Nell went up a dozen steps to find herself in a large, open room that had never been finished beyond the original walls and ceiling. It was packed with all kinds of things.

"I guess after ten decades, stuff begins to pile up," Deeks said, moving a box aside with his foot.

From what Nell could determine, most of the room was taken up by old furniture and boxes of unspecified objects. About fifteen feet to her left was an old couch and some armchairs situated around an antique coffee table. To Nell's mind, it looked like the kind of cobbled together set-up employees might have made to spend time on their breaks…perhaps to avoid Davis?

The things stored closer to the stairs seemed more recent and she imagined the further back they went, the older the items would get. The things all the way in the back of the attic might be leftover storage going back to the original house and its owners. And she'd thought the basement was bad with all the junk stored down there. The attic rivaled it and then some.

There was also the small matter that it was _freezing_. She involuntarily shivered.

Deeks was searching through a stack of boxes on an end table in the corner and yelled triumphantly when he pulled out a Ouija board that must have been from 1950. "They weren't lying when they said there was one up here. How lucky are we?"

"Lucky isn't the word that comes to mind," Callen said, deadpan.

Deeks ignored that, directing both Kensi and Callen to start setting up candles with him.

Callen slowly moved to comply, setting some candles around the room on things that he deemed safe enough to be near fire – and even that made him uncomfortable. Thankfully, it was as if Kensi read his mind and pointed him toward a box of old plates she had found.

"Put them on those, if anything tips it'll just go out."

"You two are worried over nothing. These are sturdy enough on their own!" Deeks set one of the candles on a stack of newspapers and pulled out a lighter. At the look on Callen's face, he started laughing and moved the candle to one of the plates. "Do you really think I'd be so careless? Wait, don't answer that."

Nell ignored the three of them, stretching out on the couch, which though old, seemed clean enough. It was actually pretty comfortable and had a few throw pillows. She crossed her arms to try and conserve heat, but she didn't know how long she'd actually be able to stay up there.

"Good thinking, Nell," Callen called over to her. "You have the quickest escape route so when we inevitably go up in flames, you can just run out of here and leave us behind."

"Yeah, how come you aren't helping?" Deeks complained.

She sent him an irritated look. "I'm tired and I'm freezing. You're lucky I'm here at all." Both the cold and her exhaustion were quickly draining whatever good mood might have been left in her. She was truly regretting not going back to bed when Callen had suggested it. She'd always had a hard time overcoming discomfort, especially if she was supposed to _fake_ being happy.

"I'll try to find a heater," Deeks offered. "I'm sure there's one up here."

Kensi had finished setting up her share of candles and began rummaging through some boxes. "I hope they didn't hide any clues in the attic. I think it would take a month to sort through everything."

"I knew it!" Deeks cried, from the far side of the room. "Look what's plugged in over here." He pushed over a portable heater on wheels and Nell frowned at the wisdom of trying it out. It appeared to be at least forty years old…if not older.

"Deeks, we're trying to _not_ burn ourselves to death," Kensi reminded him.

"Oh come on, this thing's sturdy. They used to build quality appliances in the olden days. Trust me." Deeks had gone behind another stack of boxes to find an outlet on the wall nearest them.

Callen apparently agreed that it might not be the best idea to use it. "Deeks, that thing has to be from the 70's. How do we even know it works?"

"You're from the 70's," Deeks pointed out, as he stood, brushing himself off. "And _you_ still work, don't you?"

Callen waited a moment too long before replying, " _You're_ from the 70's, Deeks."

"Ah yes, but the _late_ 70's. You've got nearly a decade on me. Despite that, you're holding together well even though the years have taken their toll."

When Callen merely looked at him, hard, Deeks hastily turned away on the pretense of figuring out how to work the heater. Unfortunately, Nell couldn't stop herself from laughing (she blamed her extreme tiredness) which drew Callen's glare from Deeks over to her. At that, she pressed her hands to her face since his discontent only made her want to laugh harder.

"I'm glad you find this amusing," Callen told her. "Get back to me in fifteen years when you're my age."

"What's that Callen?" she asked, smartly. "I can't hear you over how much I'm enjoying my youth over here."

"Yeah, we were born in the 80's," Kensi said, smugly. "We're practically teenagers compared to you two."

Deeks burst out laughing at that, pointing at his partner. "You? A _teenager_?" He had to expertly dodge when she tried to kick him and almost made contact.

Despite his partner's annoyance, Deeks finally found the switch to the heater and turned it on. When it instantly started crackling, Nell couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

"Rest assured, Kens," Deeks intoned, dramatically, "you don't have to worry about finding clues in this room. The only clues we need will come from the other side."

Callen watched him unfold the Ouija board. "So this is my life now. This is what it's come to." Despite his protests, he sat down on the floor next to the coffee table. He was in front of the couch Nell was lying on, and Deeks and Kensi were on the other side of the table.

"Please," Deeks said, "most people on the planet never get to experience a _tenth_ of the things we do."

Callen regarded him with no small amount of skepticism. "Somehow, I doubt most people want to attend a séance with you, Deeks."

"If you guys could keep it down so I could nap…" Nell implored.

"Need I remind you that you're the one who wanted to come up here after learning of Deeks' plan?" Callen asked.

"Come on, Nell," Deeks urged. "Get on the floor with us."

She was about to protest when Callen took hold of her ankle and turned her, pulling enough that she had no option but to slide off the couch and onto the floor.

"My hatred," she swore, "it burns so, so deep."

"Now you finally know how I feel dealing with Deeks every day," Kensi said, cheerily.

Nell wondered if there was a point where her body would fail on her from exhaustion. "I never truly understood what you went through before," she told Kensi. "Remind me to put in the paperwork for Deeks' transfer when we get home."

"Nell, my Nell. You're breaking my heart." Deeks pressed a hand to his chest and fell into his partner's side. Kensi promptly pushed him away.

The heater was actually working, much to Nell's surprise, so she no longer felt like she would freeze to death, but it was still much cooler than she preferred. She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, and it must have been some combination of tiredness and simply _not caring_ anymore that led to her leaning into Callen's side without any hesitation. At least he was warm – maybe if she passed out, they wouldn't bother her anymore.

Callen put an arm around her and Deeks opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Nell couldn't be certain, but she was fairly convinced Callen had shot him some kind of look along the lines of 'say one word and you'll be going out the window'.

"Maybe we should take the rest of the week off when we go home," Callen suggested. "I think we'll have earned it by then."

"I could stand a week off," Deeks said, nodding enthusiastically.

"I don't recall mentioning _you_ ," Callen informed him. "You can go right back on Monday."

"Nell wants to transfer me, you want to make me do _work_ –"

"The horror," Callen interrupted.

"I'm not enjoying this unfair treatment," Deeks warned. "You'd best wise up, lest the spirits teach you a lesson. I'll have you know that I'm highly respected on the other side."

"The other side of _what_?" Kensi asked, skeptically.

"The spirit world, Kens. I'm a certified medium." At their looks of disbelief, he added, "That's right, I have a certificate and everything. If things start going sideways, I'll be your only hope. So you better treat me well."

Nell tried to translate that to something they could all understand. "Are you saying that you're the only thing standing between us and murderous ghosts?"

"More or less."

"At this point, I _want_ the spirits to take me out," Callen muttered, causing Nell to press her forehead into his shoulder in a poor attempt at hiding her laughter.

Deeks clapped loudly, shocking them back to face him. "If you two can't behave, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the séance area." He checked his phone. "Alright, it's 2:55. Looks like we have to wait five more minutes."

Nell watched, utterly confused, as he proceeded to sit there, scrolling through his phone, looking at who knew what.

"You're seriously going to wait," Callen said.

"I don't make the rules, Callen."

"Don't wake me at 3," Nell mumbled, and she swore the next second a loud ringing was going off that had her eyes snapping open with shock. In her half-awake state, she thought it was the fire alarm and she would have gotten up, except Callen tightened his hold on her (he must have felt her surprise).

Deeks was fumbling with his phone and finally silenced the alarm.

"I think this weekend's taken about five years off my life," Nell sighed to Callen. "At least."

"Sorry," he murmured, "though to be fair, I'm reasonably sure a lot of that has nothing to do with our training and is all thanks to our insane colleagues."

Deeks pushed the coffee table closer to Callen and Nell so they could reach it without moving (it also somewhat effectively trapped them between the table and the couch, Nell noted).

Someone had also turned off the overhead lights so the only illumination in the room came from the candles. It definitely set the mood, but made for an eerie atmosphere that had Nell shifting uneasily closer to Callen (not that there was much room left between them).

"It's 3 am," Deeks announced, needlessly. "I set my phone earlier to make sure we started on time."

"We can always leave," Callen whispered, and she noted the barely concealed hope in his tone. "Say the word."

Nell squared her shoulders, sitting up a little. "No, I think we should see this through. It might be worth our while."

"Whatever you say."

"Whatever I say…" she hummed. "I like the sound of that."

He laughed at her self-satisfaction. "You should. It's been true for a long time now."

Deeks was speaking low, under his breath, something about imploring the spirits to temporarily grant them access to the other side.

"These are the things we'll look back on fondly," she assured him. "You know…someday."

"Ah yes, the memories where we'll wonder what the hell we dedicated our lives to…"

"If you two could _please_ control yourselves," Deeks hissed. "You're upsetting the spiritual balance of the room."

Callen and Nell exchanged a look and then glanced at Kensi who merely shook her head at them, as if to say, 'welcome to my life'.

"I think we're ready to begin," Deeks announced. "We have to join hands in a circle to start."

"Of course we do," Callen sighed, though he held his right hand out to Deeks, who was across from him, and took Nell's hand with his left.

Deeks grinned widely at him. "I think this is a nice bonding –"

"None of that," Callen warned. "Let's move this along so we can get some sleep before whatever torture they have lined up for us tomorrow."

Nell took Kensi's hand with her left and Kensi took Deeks' free hand, completing the circle. She heard Callen faintly say something along the lines of 'the things I do for you people'.

"You sure about this?" Kensi asked.

"Please, I took an _online course_ ," Deeks reminded her, before shooting a sly glance at the two people across the coffee table. "I also took another class at the same time to become an ordained minister. Keep it in mind."

Callen thought he would definitely _not_ keep that in mind. "Deeks, if I ever ask you to marry me to someone, you can be assured I have _lost it_."

"So you're saying there's a chance?" Deeks asked

"Aw, I think it'd be sweet," Nell said to Callen. "Your best friend marrying you off to the woman of your dreams."

"Best friend?" Callen repeated, darkly.

"Woman of his dreams?" Kensi needled. "Who might that be, in this imagined scenario of yours?"

"I don't know," Nell said, thoughtfully. "Do we know anyone crazy enough to commit the rest of her life to Callen?"

"I don't know," Deeks shot back. "Do we?"

"I'm sitting right here," Callen pointed out, not that any of them cared. He moved his arms up and down to remind them they were still holding hands for this ridiculous circle. "Am I the only who remembers why we're even here in the first place?"

"Oh right!" Deeks said. "If everyone's ready to begin –"

Deeks never got to finish his sentence, because that was when every candle in the room was suddenly extinguished, leaving them in darkness.

 **XXXXXX**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN:** I know it takes me a while between chapters and I'll always be apologizing for that. This story _will_ be finished. And thank you so much to everyone who has enjoyed this story, I appreciate the feedback more than you know!

 **XXXXXX**

The sudden and complete blackness that overtook the room caused a momentary, anxious silence as the four of them froze in anticipation.

After what felt like an interminable length of time (but was probably only ten seconds), Nell felt Kensi drop her hand. It occurred to her that she should probably let go of Callen, but the mere thought had her gripping his hand tighter in reflex.

To her immense relief, he not only didn't let go, but pulled on her hand in a silent offer to move closer to him – and she quickly did so.

"Wow," Deeks breathed out, excitement clear in his voice. "The spirits are restless tonight!"

And just like that, Nell felt her face pulling into a smile she couldn't contain. She heard him fumbling around in the dark (and subsequently cursing) as he tried to do something on the other side of the coffee table.

"Got it!" he announced, turning on the flashlight feature of his phone. It blinded both her and Callen, who put their arms up as a shield. "Oh, sorry – wait, I have a better idea." Deeks turned it off and then flicked on the lighter from earlier, holding it a few inches below his chin.

"We're not telling ghost stories around a campfire," Kensi said, just short of sighing.

"We might as well at this point," Callen said. "For how 'realistic' any of this is."

"Keep it up," Deeks told him. "That way the agitated spirits will go after you, not me."

"Please," Callen scoffed, "after years of dealing with _you_ , a few ghosts would be a cakewalk." He seemed to be warming to the idea as he slowly nodded to himself. "In fact, they'd probably be a welcome relief."

"No one asked for your opinion," Deeks said, jabbing his lighter in Callen's direction. "Now, who wants to help me relight the candles?"

No one moved or spoke.

Deeks grumbled something to himself as he got up and started lighting them, then said, much louder, "Would you look at this? It's like a typical day at work. Here I am, doing everything. _Alone_."

Nell took exception to that. "At work you do everything… _what_?"

"With only the assistance of our lovely and indispensable analyst Nell Jones," Deeks quickly added, flashing her a semi-apologetic grin.

"Indispensable," Nell repeated quietly, greatly enjoying the compliment.

"For once, I agree with something Deeks said." Callen sounded truly shocked, but Nell knew it was mostly for show.

"…And what about your partner?" Kensi prompted Deeks, when he said nothing more.

"She's usually off somewhere taking credit for my latest brilliant idea."

Kensi seemed like she was about to laugh, but as he lit another candle, her smile faded. "What could have caused two dozen candles to go out at the exact same time?" she asked warily.

"Don't suggest ghosts," Callen pleaded. "I'm begging you."

"What else could it have been?" Deeks asked, from behind them, as Nell spun around to watch him light the candles that lined the wall near the stairs.

"A draft?" Callen suggested, despite the fact that _none_ of them had felt a draft anytime close to the candles going out.

"A draft? Please, Callen." Deeks started laughing, as if the suggestion were absurd, and Nell shivered (not from the cold), turning more into Callen's side. From Nell's count, Deeks had been about 50/50 on his explanations for the events of the house – half the time he said it was the staff setting things up, the other half he blamed the supernatural. Nell hadn't been able to determine which explanation he actually favored, but tonight he was definitely attributing everything to an otherworldly cause. She also wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying or if it was an elaborate act he was putting on to try and heighten the atmosphere.

"I'd like to thank _none_ of you," Deeks told them icily, as he retook his seat next to Kensi and sent her a scathing look. "I'm far too used to everyone forcing me to do things on my own."

"Keep complaining and you'll be doing a _lot_ more things on your own from now on," Kensi sweetly threatened. "And not at work."

"We've been over this, Kens," Deeks reminded her. "You'd cave much faster than me."

Nell couldn't help laughing at their thinly-veiled argument, mostly glad they'd finally given up on their horrible attempts at trying to hide their relationship. Callen sighed dramatically next to her and she only laughed more.

"I really don't need to hear this," Callen was complaining. "And here I was, prepared to say something about staying professional, when it occurred to me…is this what life is like for Granger?" Callen shot Nell a look of almost pure horror. "Am I becoming the mature one of our group?"

"It's a natural consequence of approaching 50," Deeks said smartly. When Callen glanced at him, Deeks must not have liked the look on their team leader's face, since he coughed and averted his gaze.

Callen refocused his attention on Nell. "The other day, when we were trapped in the study, I had this momentary flash that I quickly shook off, but I think it was – could I actually be feeling sympathy? For _Granger_?" Callen had begun muttering to himself. "No. I can't be."

"I can't wait to tell him this tomorrow," Kensi said, trying to rile him up. "You two can bond over how you're the responsible ones around here." She slid her gaze over to Deeks. "Unlike certain people on our team."

"Nothing I said leaves this room," Callen warned her. "In fact, this conversation never happened." She nodded at him, but he had a feeling that meant Granger would know by breakfast the next morning.

"Are you implying I'm irresponsible?" Deeks asked Kensi, belatedly registering her insult. "Look at all the work I put into this séance. I was responsible for everything tonight!"

"You mean…lighting the candles?" Nell asked.

" _Twice_. And the second time, it was by myself," he pointed out, making sure he got credit for that.

"Is that it?" Callen asked, thinking there had to be more.

"I…opened the attic door. It was stuck, remember? So yeah, I did everything by myself." Deeks had picked up on the other man's implication that he hadn't done much. "What have you done tonight, Callen? In fact, what have you been doing this entire weekend, so far?"

Callen glanced down at Nell and she could practically see him going over the list of things they'd been through in only two days. How much he'd helped her in that amount of time, and how no one else knew it, and maybe never would – because if anyone ever told them, it'd be up to her. (And she suddenly felt like she should be doing a much better job of telling him how much she appreciated him, in general.)

Callen had turned back to Deeks. "You know…various things."

"Sounds like a lot of lounging around with Nell to me," Deeks said, note of victory in his voice, like he'd won whatever point he'd been trying to make. "If I'd had to rely on you – any of you – we wouldn't be up here right now."

"I can only dream of such an evening," Callen said, voice wistful. "Besides, didn't you say that _you_ were the medium here tonight? That means, by definition, everything is your job."

"Sure…to an extent," Deeks reluctantly allowed, "but if you didn't infuriate the spirits _on purpose_ we wouldn't have to deal with things like them extinguishing the candles."

Callen briefly shut his eyes. "You're not _seriously_ telling me you believe ghosts are responsible."

"There's no 'telling' about it," Deeks informed him sharply. "There's fact and not fact. And the fact is that you haven't taken this séance seriously and that has disrespected – nay, insulted! – our friends on the other side."

"Nell…" Callen had turned his head so he was speaking into her hair, and it made her smile. "Please tell me we can go back to bed."

"Oh, you can go back," Deeks assured. "Just realize that the most disgruntled spirits among us will follow you to your room…and beyond."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Callen said dryly.

"You want to be haunted for the rest of your life?" Deeks demanded.

"You mean I'm not already?" their lead agent quipped, trying for sincere, though no one in the room bought it in the slightest.

Nell effectively tuned out their banter, letting her thoughts drift aimlessly. With the candles relit, the heater warming the room by the minute, and her friends around her (not to mention how comfortable she was against Callen's side), the attic had become almost cozy, in its own way. As such, Nell was actively fighting to keep her eyes open in a way she hadn't been before.

What would it hurt if she let them shut for a moment…

"Jones!" Deeks suddenly yelled, causing her to surge forward and press her hands to the coffee table to keep from hitting it. "Look alive – we're about to begin again."

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she bit out, and the brush of Callen's hand at the back of her head was the only thing keeping her from surging across the table to tackle Deeks. "I hope the spirits make you suffer."

"Vindictive, Nell," Deeks admonished. "I think the attributes of…" he eyed the man next to her warily, "…some among us are wearing off on you."

"You haven't seen anything yet," she promised and when Callen slid his hand down to her forearm, she tried to make a conscious effort to relax. Her problem wasn't with Deeks; she was simply miserable because of exhaustion. "Can we get back to it, please? I'm really tired."

"I understand," Deeks said carefully, moving his gaze between the two of them. "Callen has kept you from getting any sleep in this place, so naturally –"

"Sorry," Callen said sarcastically, tone implying that he simply couldn't let that accusation go. "Who's the one among us that arranged a séance at _3 in the morning_?"

"A séance which is _necessary_ to solve the mystery of this place…or something," Deeks said defensively, sounding put out.

"It's already 3:10," Kensi said, in warning, as she tapped on Deeks' phone where he'd laid it on the coffee table. "We might have missed our window."

"Only 4½ hours until Granger wakes us up," Callen said, sadistically cheerful, and Nell pressed her hands to her eyes in misery.

"Let's move this along," Deeks said, motioning for everyone to join hands for a second time. He began repeating his 'pleas to the spirits' from earlier – or at least, Nell thought that was mostly what he was saying. She'd stopped listening again without really meaning to (either because she went into some kind of sleep-deprived trance, or because she actually fell asleep for a few minutes, she couldn't say).

She snapped back to attention when Deeks told them to drop hands – as soon as they did so, an actual draft moved through the room, threatening the flames of the candles, but not extinguishing any of them. Callen had moved his arm back to her shoulders and when she tensed slightly, he tightened his hold on her.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Deeks said, absurdly proud. "The connection has been established."

"Connection?" Kensi repeated, in question.

"To the other side! We now have a direct link. Can't you feel it?"

"I don't feel anything," Kensi told him, though her tone was much less sure than her statement.

Callen and Nell glanced at each other and she knew what he was silently saying – there was something off in the room and he could feel it as well as she could.

"I can sense it," Deeks insisted. "Hopefully we make contact with Lydia tonight. Also, Thomas Blackwell has been said to haunt his former home, as well." His tone had turned more ominous. "I also want to remind everyone that whenever you open a connection to the other side, you never know whom you might encounter."

"I'm feeling so much better about this," Nell muttered.

"Just wait," Callen whispered, faint enough that Deeks and Kensi hadn't heard him. Nell had no idea what he meant by that, but before she could ask, Deeks was speaking again.

"Everyone join me in touching the planchette," Deeks ordered. Upon seeing Callen and Nell's confusion, he explained, "That's the _official_ name for the the pointer that goes with the board."

"Wouldn't want to use the wrong name," Callen said, under his breath, and Nell bit her lip to keep from laughing. Everyone followed Deeks' lead, copying how he placed two fingers on it.

Thus began ten or so minutes of Deeks asking various questions that got him ambiguous answers more often than not. Nell might have been slower than usual due to her tiredness, but she soon realized that the 'answers' had to be from Callen or Kensi (or both by silent collusion?) since they were deliberately designed to make Deeks as annoyed as possible. And shortly after Nell realized it, so did Deeks.

"Stop trying to interfere with the results," Deeks complained, slapping a hand down on the table in frustration after the 'spirit' they were talking to warned him that his own house was haunted and he should consider hiring an exorcist to cleanse the home before he was possessed.

Callen tried to affect his most innocent expression. "I would never interfere!" he exclaimed, then motioned to Kensi. "Would you?"

"No," she told her partner. "Not ever."

"Liars," Deeks proclaimed. "You're both liars. And terrible ones, at that."

"In all honesty, Deeks," Callen began, "do we know how safe this is?"

Deeks eyed him suspiciously. "Sounds almost like you think ghosts might be able to impact your life, after all. That said, it's perfectly safe…as long as you respect the spirits. Which _some_ of you here tonight seem to find impossible."

Callen ignored the criticism. "What if one of them _did_ try to possess one of us?"

"You're thinking of demons," Deeks told him. "Restless spirits are another matter, entirely. They might temporarily take over to communicate, but they're not looking to inhabit people long-term. Even if they were, they would lack the energy necessary. It takes a lot to even get their messages through from the other side." At Nell's questioning look, he admitted, "I had to do a lot more reading than I thought to become certified as a medium."

"Are you sure about all that?" Callen didn't sound convinced (which Nell recognized as yet another act). "If I were a lost soul and found out I could communicate through a living person, I'd be tempted to take over their body."

"Good point," Kensi agreed, "and a ghost could do worse than Deeks. I mean, he's physically fit, reasonably attractive and intelligent –"

"Reasonably?" Deeks interrupted, unhappily.

"Don't forget young," Nell said. "You know…ish."

Deeks was glancing between the two women. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered at the compliments or appalled that it seems like you're trying to convince spirits to possess me."

"How do you feel, Deeks?" Callen prodded. "Like yourself? Or like…someone else?"

Deeks' uncertainty turned into an outright scowl at Callen's insinuation. "You are not helping," he snapped, then turned to Kensi, "and unless _you_ want to spend the next 60 years with Thomas Blackwell or some other ghost, I advise you to stop talking about how great I'd be as a host for a wayward spirit."

"Maybe one's already in you," Callen told him, "and you simply don't know it yet."

"That's not possible," Deeks insisted. "As a certified medium, I would know."

"Would you?" Callen challenged.

"Maybe a spirit's in _you_ ," Deeks suggested, trying to turn it around.

Callen shook his head. "I have much more mental fortitude than you. No spirit would stand a chance trying to possess me."

"I have at _least_ as much mental fortitude as you," Deeks claimed. "If not more."

"No way, Deeks," Callen said. "Not possible. I think Nell said it best earlier tonight – I was trained by the CIA, mostly for black operations. No ghost would dare take up residence in me."

"You forgot the assassin part." Nell sent him a sideways grin. "My favorite part."

Kensi seemed intrigued by the turn their conversation had taken, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the coffee table. "I've always wondered about your time in the CIA. Were you really an assassin?"

"That," Callen said coolly, "is classified, Agent Blye."

Kensi's eyes had taken on a slightly faraway look. "The way you said that is so hot," she informed Callen, as he winked at her in response.

"Kensi!" Deeks complained. "I'm _right here_."

"Why couldn't you have been ex-CIA?" she asked her partner, feigning disappointment.

"Hey, the LAPD is…just as exciting." He crossed his arms, seeming to forget the reason they were even in the attic. "Sure, we never got to 'classify' anything –"

She waved a hand in indication for him to stop talking. "How many undercover operations did you go on, Callen? What was the most exciting one? Did you overthrow any governments?"

"I've been on plenty of undercover operations," Deeks answered before Callen could. "Most of them were as a homeless man, but that's no different than –"

"It's completely different," Kensi interrupted.

"We've all gone undercover for NCIS," Deeks argued. "There's nothing objectively better about Callen's previous experiences just because they happened to be with the CIA."

"Are you kidding?" Kensi asked, in disbelief. "It's _much_ cooler. Callen could have been like…James Bond, for all we know."

"Very close description, Kensi." Callen was nodding, unable to suppress his smile. "Almost uncannily so. With one difference – I was much better at my job than he was."

"Oh, now you're an international spy," Deeks scoffed.

"To be fair," Nell chimed in, "being an international spy is kind of the job description for a CIA agent. They operate overseas in mostly clandestine operations."

When Deeks started arguing that maybe Callen sat behind a desk for most of his years at the CIA, Kensi spoke right over him, still intently focused on Callen. "I bet you know the truth about a lot of conspiracies." She lowered her voice, as if there might be surveillance devices around the attic, listening in. "What _really_ goes on at Area 51?"

"Sorry," he sent a smug look at Deeks, taking great joy in explaining, "that's _classified_."

Despite himself, Deeks seemed like he was warming to the subject. "Who killed JFK? No, wait, I want to change my question: what happened at Roswell?" He leaned in over the table. "I know it wasn't a weather balloon."

"It was a weather balloon," Callen confirmed. "There are declassified documents about it, Deeks."

"Like I'd trust anything the CIA ever willingly told the public," Deeks said, tone implying that anyone who did so was an idiot. "You can tell us, though – the three of us can keep a secret."

Callen was more than skeptical. "That's a joke, right?"

"Just as I thought," Deeks began, shaking his head, "you don't know what happened at Roswell. You have _no idea_ about any of this. Unless…" he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Callen, "you _do_ know and you're sticking to the party line."

Nell could tell that Callen was trying extremely hard not to sigh. "Deeks –"

"He definitely knows," Deeks interrupted, nodding more vigorously now.

"How about this," Callen said. "No comment, on what I might or might not know." When Deeks opened his mouth, he added loudly, "About anything. Assume _everything_ is classified."

"So hot," Kensi repeated, grinning at Callen and sending Nell a quick, conspiratorial look that let her know she was now doing this solely to irritate Deeks.

"I'm going to start thinking you like him," Deeks warned, though his tone was more playful than not as he caught on to her game.

"I do like him," Kensi said, "but too bad for Callen, someone else won my heart before he could."

Nell watched Deeks and Kensi exchange an affectionate glance that was just-this-side of too long, and started smiling at them.

"We weren't meant to be," Callen agreed, tone much too dramatic. "But things worked out the way they were supposed to."

"I guess I can't really blame you for liking him, anyways," Deeks admitted to Kensi, a bit wistfully. "If we're being truthful here…the CIA stuff is pretty damn awesome."

"Are you two going to start fighting over him?" Nell asked. "Because that's what it sounds like to me."

"Nah, we'll leave him to you, Nell," Deeks said, smirking. Nell laughed in response, the way she always brushed off how her teammates liked to tease them about their friendship, but lately it was feeling like less and less of a joke – like maybe they could tell that this weekend had been making her see things a lot clearer than she ever had before.

She was acutely aware of how close she was sitting to Callen; how close she was to him _always_. Because she enjoyed spending time with him, wherever he was, whatever he was doing. At work or outside of it. There was always some excuse to find him, to talk to him, to _be_ with him.

It also wasn't lost on her that for a long time now, he'd been searching her out in the exact same way.

They almost always sat next to each other when their team went to a restaurant or bar. (Their friends even saved those seats for them when they didn't arrive at the same time.)

If she needed help with anything, he was there, often without her asking. (Two weeks ago, he'd shown up at her apartment to help her assemble some new furniture because he'd overheard her telling Eric that she'd been putting it off forever.)

She often got him to do things that he didn't want to do – attend events he claimed were 'unnecessary' or 'too social' or whatever other ridiculous excuse he came up with that week. ('Deeks will be there' was another favorite excuse of his.) When she'd first begun coaxing him into things, a few years before, it had been difficult, but she'd always managed. Now? He barely put up a protest, and it was always more token than anything else.

For a long time, she'd thought she'd known what they were to each other: friends and teammates who got along exceptionally well. But that didn't exactly fit anymore, and hadn't for a while. Spending so much time with him this weekend was making it much more obvious in a way she usually tried to avoid or ignore – because it had the potential to change everything, whether he returned her feelings or not.

"It's past 3:30," Callen told them, interrupting her thoughts. "We either need to get a move on or give up entirely. I don't want to spend the last few hours of the night with the three of you." He leaned down to whisper in Nell's ear, "Just the _one_ of you."

She knew he was referring to how they'd been spending their nights in the same room, but something about his words, or the way he said them (or maybe just her imagination), led her to picture something else entirely.

Like maybe he wanted her as much as she was starting to admit she'd always wanted him.

 _Dangerous, Nell,_ she reminded herself. _If you dare venture down that path, you can never come back from it._

(And maybe she didn't want to come back from it.)

"If you could be a little more professional," Deeks complained, and for a terrifying moment Nell thought he'd somehow read her mind, or that she'd spoken out loud. Fortunately, he went on to explain (leveling looks at Callen and Kensi for good measure): "Don't interfere with the answers this time. Please let the spirits speak for themselves."

"We didn't interfere the first time," Kensi insisted, face perfectly blank, as Deeks entered into some kind of staring contest with her, like he was waiting for her to cave and admit it.

Callen snapped his fingers a few times to break them out of it. It earned him glares from both of them and then Deeks shut his eyes and (probably deliberately) took his time starting again.

"To whom are we speaking tonight?" Deeks finally asked, once everyone was touching the planchette, but nothing happened.

"Maybe they're shy," Kensi suggested.

"Please tell us your name," Deeks implored, staring at the planchette. It slowly moved to the letter 'E', and then the letter 'F', before hovering somewhere in between the two letters.

"There's an 'E' in Blackwell," Kensi said, trying to keep a straight face and pretend like it wasn't a stretch. The planchette shifted to 'L' and didn't move again. "There are two 'L's in Blackwell!"

"You don't have to say that every time," Deeks reminded her. "You're also missing that Lydia starts with an 'L'. Remember? The whole reason we're here?"

Nell held her breath, wondering if it would go to the letter 'I' next, but as the planchette started to move, Kensi pulled her hand away in order to lightly hit Deeks in annoyance. Nell felt irrationally irritated when it stopped moving and barely managed to keep herself from snapping at Kensi. The last thing she needed was for them to realize that she was actually upset at the idea that they might have lost their connection to a ghost. How would she even begin to explain that?

And besides, who knew if Eliza was even dead, never mind a ghost? That was quite the leap to make, considering they had no idea what had happened to her; she might be happily living her life somewhere else. Even if she was dead, it was silly to think they could…talk to her. Nell wasn't entirely sure how she felt about life after death, but she wasn't convinced there was something more, let alone spirits out there they could communicate with.

Nell attributed her increasingly bizarre thoughts – entertaining the possibility of any of this – to how unsettled the house had made her; it was affecting her way of thinking.

"Kensi, you ended the first real contact we've had thus far," Deeks admonished.

"I was trying to be helpful before," Kensi told him. "You don't have to be so condescending."

To Nell's surprise, Deeks instantly turned apologetic. "You're right, I'm sorry. Séances always put me on edge."

"Hold on, was that 'séances', plural?" Callen asked. "How many of these have you done?"

Deeks brightened considerably. "It began with my friend Earl. He was convinced his apartment complex was haunted. Not only his building, but all seven of them! So I decided to –"

"As much as I'm sure Callen and Nell are dying to hear this _two hour story_ ," Kensi interrupted, "we don't really have time tonight."

"Always thinking, Kens," Deeks said cheerfully, before pointing from Callen to Nell. "I'll catch you two tomorrow."

"Remind me to hide all day tomorrow," Callen muttered to Nell and she turned away so Deeks couldn't see her smile.

"What do you want from us?" Deeks asked, once they were focused again. They received no answer and the planchette remained unmoving.

"Some medium you are," Callen taunted, as Deeks shot him a quelling look.

"Negative energy," he hissed at Callen in warning, and it reminded Nell of the accusation he'd thrown at her earlier when he'd been showing off his magic tricks. (Apparently it was one of his go-to excuses for why something wasn't working.)

"I'd like to blame Kensi for this," Callen accused. "She took her hand off when we were actually getting answers."

"You _did_ break that first fragile connection," Deeks said, frowning at her in disapproval.

Kensi said nothing, simply moving her free hand in a circle to indicate they should keep going. (Nell suspected the other woman must be getting as tired as her if she wasn't even willing to fight with Deeks anymore.)

Once more, Deeks loudly asked for a name. Again, they received no response.

What followed was perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes of Deeks throwing out random questions in an increasingly futile attempt at trying to get some kind of answer. Though the planchette would sometimes waver a bit or settle on random letters, they couldn't make sense of any of it – and those were the few times it moved at all.

Nell almost began to miss the first time around, when Callen and Kensi had given fake answers to annoy Deeks and see how he'd react. She was getting truly impatient, her frustration exacerbated by the relentless desire to sleep. This was beginning to seem like an incredible waste of time – not that she'd really expected to make contact with ghosts or anything of the sort, but after getting the letters 'E' and 'L', she'd begun to wonder… Now, though, she knew it had been her overtired imagination running away from her, making connections among things that weren't actually connected.

Deeks asked if any spirits present could describe 'the other side' and Nell was nearly to the point that she was going to call an end to this, or maybe give a fake answer herself; that was when the planchette began moving, slowly spelling out the word 'dark'. Nell somehow resisted the kneejerk urge to pull her hand away.

Deeks was staring at the board, both amazed and disturbed at the answer. "Are you trying to say that it's dark where you are?" he cautiously asked.

Nell felt her skin prickling as the planchette moved again, this time forming the word 'cold' before coming to a stop. She looked at each of her friends, trying to determine if any of them were doing it for their own amusement, but they seemed as surprised as she was by the answers they were getting.

By some silent consensus, they'd all removed their hands from the planchette, perhaps waiting for further instructions from Deeks, or maybe too disturbed to keep touching it – and that was when Nell swore she saw it move on its own. It wasn't much, maybe a half-inch or so.

"Did you see that?" she whispered, staring at the planchette like her eyes alone might keep it from moving again.

"See what?" Kensi asked.

"It moved," Nell insisted. "I swear it moved."

"It can't move without us touching it," Deeks said (trying to sound reasonable for once in his life). "The spirits have to move it _through_ us." (And back to unreasonable.)

"Maybe the house…shifted…or something, and that caused it to move slightly," Kensi suggested. "You know how old buildings like to settle?"

"Maybe?" Nell couldn't keep the trepidation out of her question.

"Let's try again," Deeks said, as they all reached over to the planchette – Nell hesitated, but no one else did, so she forced herself to put her hand on it.

Deeks hadn't even asked a question before it was spelling out a new word: H, E, L – Nell didn't wait for the last letter, wrenching her hand back as if she'd been burned. And even that wasn't enough. She wasn't sure exactly what she needed, but distance seemed like a good start.

She quickly stood up, ignoring the startled glances her friends sent her way. "I'm tired," she told them, somewhat desperately. "I can't do this anymore tonight." When no one reacted, she looked down at Callen. "I want to go to bed."

He heard the silent request in her statement – if she was going back downstairs, she wanted him to go with her. And truthfully, he wouldn't have let her leave alone, anyways. Not after the strange things they'd already gone through that night (and the night before). Even if there was nothing going on with the house or the game or any supposed hauntings, Nell had a knack for getting into precarious situations in this house – at least at night. Daytime seemed to be different; things were more normal, and while the house was still unsettling during the day, it didn't really seem threatening.

Blackwell Manor at night, though…

"Okay," he said easily, getting up along with her.

"You two are leaving already?" Deeks was obviously disappointed.

Nell felt slightly guilty, but before she could apologize, Callen spoke. "It's been almost an hour," he reminded them. "I think that's more than enough time spent indulging you."

Deeks gasped theatrically. "Indulg–"

"You two can continue on if you want," Callen cut him off. "Or here's a better suggestion: drag Eric and Sam up here so they see firsthand what Nell and I went through tonight."

"If I dared to wake Sam at this time of day, he'd definitely make the rest of my weekend a living hell," Deeks said petulantly.

Callen considered that. "And you don't think I'm going to?"

"No, we bonded today, remember?" Deeks was starting to grin. "Not to mention that Nell wouldn't approve."

Callen glanced at Nell, noting the way she slightly nodded in agreement. Then he realized that maybe that wasn't the point, as he faced Deeks again. "Who says I do whatever Nell wants me to do?"

" _You_ literally said that," Kensi told him.

"Not even an hour ago," Deeks added dryly. "In this very room."

Alright, well…maybe they had a point. But still. "I might go against her just to make your life miserable, Deeks."

"Yeah right," Deeks said, in clear disbelief, then seemed to reconsider as he looked from Callen to Nell, especially because Nell wasn't looking too happy at the moment. (And he felt pretty bad about that.) "Let me remind you both that you came up here on your own."

"You said that you were minutes away from waking us up!" Callen protested.

"But I didn't actually do it," Deeks argued. "That should gain me some favor."

"I can feel the seconds of my life ticking away while you two fight over nothing," Kensi said, resting her head in her hands.

The good-natured arguments of her friends had caused Nell to feel slightly better, but she couldn't rid herself of the feeling of _wrongness_ that had permeated the entire attic at the end of the séance. It was the same feeling she'd been getting on and off all weekend, but she'd never felt it as strongly as she did right then. A new draft, accompanied by faint creaking from the back of the attic, had her going for the stairs before she consciously realized she was moving.

She didn't slow down to say goodbye, even though she heard them calling her name as she left. Callen followed her, trailing a few steps behind, but she didn't say anything to him, either. There was only one thought in her mind as she made her way back to the second floor: get as far away from the attic as quickly as she possibly could.

Nell didn't stop until she'd reached Callen's room and stepped inside, with him shortly behind her. Once he closed the door, shutting everything out except the two of them, she finally relaxed; upon doing so, she realized she hadn't truly felt that comfortable since they'd left the room two hours earlier. There was something about being there, with _only_ him, that allowed her to let her guard down.

She sat on the end of the bed, sighing when she saw it was a little after 4 in the morning. Any other day and she might have thought about getting up for good, but she was so tired that she doubted she'd be able to function long if she did. Callen had come over to lean on one of the poles of the four-poster bed, like he knew there was something she wanted to say.

"Tell me that was you at the end, with those answers." She tilted her chin up to indicate the attic. "Please."

He was shaking his head, almost apologetically. "It wasn't me."

"You and Kensi seemed to have no problem making stuff up when you were trying to mess with Deeks," she reminded him, somewhat accusing.

"That was different. We were harassing him in retaliation for actually going through with a séance at 3 in the morning. But at the end…" He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "I know how much those last few answers bothered you."

She saw it, then – what he wasn't explicitly saying. "You wouldn't use someone's real fears against them," she said quietly, feeling bad that she'd even considered it a possibility (though she'd been thinking of it more as a prank and not the consequences of it actually hurting someone).

"Not anyone's," he swore. "And when it comes to _you_? No. Never."

She almost didn't want to ask, but she had to. "What do you think it was, then? Upstairs?"

"I honestly don't know. It could have been Deeks or Kensi, but…"

"It didn't seem like it was them," she said, filling in what he hadn't said.

"Maybe it's part of the game," he suggested. "The board was rigged?"

She threw herself back to lie on the bed. "I'll choose to believe that. I guess." She really didn't know anymore. (About anything, apparently.)

He hesitated, then sat down next to her. "I've made a lot of jokes about ghosts, about this place being haunted, and I hope you know I never meant –" He broke off, frustrated. "What I mean is, if I'd known how much this place would get to you –"

"It's not your fault," she interrupted. "None of this is your fault. I'm not scared of any of this, Callen: ghosts or hauntings, the paranormal, in general, none of it. I don't know if I even _believe_ in any of that. It's this place, there's something about it, a feeling that I can't explain and I can't… I can't get rid of it."

"I still wish I'd known." He met her eyes, gaze piercing. "Tell me I haven't made anything worse for you this weekend."

"Worse?" She almost started laughing as she repeated the word. _How could he ever possibly think…_ She sat up, wanting to make sure he really heard what she said next. "Callen, you're about the only reason that things have been bearable for me. You make things better. That's all you've ever done. For me." She glanced away. "For everyone."

"Everyone, hmm?" There was a lightness in his tone that made her turn back to him. She was _not_ going to let him brush off what she'd said as a joke.

"Yes, everyone," she said, more harshly than she'd meant to. "Me, and our friends, and the cases we get – those people that we help? Almost every day of our lives?" He didn't say anything, and she knew he was uncomfortable with where she was going, but that didn't make her stop – sometimes he needed to hear it (none of them ever heard it enough, in her opinion). "That's what you _do_ , Callen. You make the world better, a little at a time, and I know that you know that."

"I guess I don't think about that aspect of it very much," he said, carefully. "It's just…a fact of our lives. None of us have ever needed any thanks or praise for what we do."

She looked at him, as serious as she'd been the entire weekend. "It's not praise, Callen. It's appreciation. And gratitude."

"I can't remember the last time someone…" He stopped, then started again. "We don't really hear –"

"Right now," she interrupted, vehemently. "I'm saying it right now." After another beat, she added, much quieter, "For everyone."

He didn't say anything, watching her a moment too long. She was sure he was going to change the subject, or maybe say it was long past time for them to go back to bed, but instead he reached over, pulling her into a hug. For a minute she forgot everything: her tiredness and her unease with this place and her worry about a girl she'd never met and her fear over what might have happened in the attic. She hadn't been lying when she'd told him that he made things better for her, and she could only hope she did the same for him.

"What you're saying about me? About our team? You're included in that, too," he reminded her. "Deeks wasn't wrong earlier; we couldn't do it without you."

She laughed a little. "You could find some other analyst to take my place."

"Just like you could find some other agent to take mine?"

She tipped her head back to send him a mild glare. "No one could ever replace you."

"That's exactly how I feel about you."

She nodded in silent acceptance of the point he was trying to make. A few moments later, he let go of her and motioned to the bed behind them in indication that they should try and get some sleep before the others came to wake them.

It was only then that Nell wondered if it was strange that she hadn't gone back to her room – if he wondered about it, too, but was kind enough to not say anything (because again, he'd do anything for any of them if he thought they needed it).

She'd had similar doubts before, each time she ended up here, but she'd always been able to come up with some kind of excuse. This time, though, there was no accident or mistake, no awful nightmare, nothing except…the overwhelming desire to _not be alone_ in this place. And not only because he was the person she felt safest with, but simply because the only person she _ever_ wanted to 'not be alone' with…was him.

His expression turned more worried when she didn't move, and didn't speak, either. "What is it?"

"I don't…" She leaned closer to him, unable to help herself. "There's no reason for me to…stay here." At least, not a good one. There was nothing she could explain in a way that wouldn't lead to a much longer, more serious discussion and she simply couldn't attempt that now. Not at 4 in the morning when she was almost falling asleep in his room, and really should have been in her own.

"Nell," he murmured, voice low, "do you want to be here?"

She wasn't sure if he meant in that bedroom with him, or just _with him_ , wherever he might be. But it didn't matter how he meant it, because her answer to both was (and always would be) the same.

"Yes," she said, simply.

"Then that's it," he whispered, against her temple. "That's the only reason you'll ever need with me."

She waited a few moments to make sure she had a handle on her emotions before repeating, "Ever?"

"Ever," he promised.

And she believed him. Because he was telling the truth.

 **XXXXXX**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN:** I kind of scared myself while writing this chapter in the middle of the night - so I suggest reading it in the dark? Or not? Depending on what you're into. ;)

This story _should_ be winding down, but I'm not that great with wrapping up stories I love, so it might still have a little ways to go... But I swear I'm at least _trying_ to work towards the ending. As always, thanks for the feedback, it means everything to me!

 **XXXXXX**

Nell woke up on a couch in one of the living rooms on the first floor, surprised to find herself entirely alone. And on top of that, no lights in the room were on, so it took her a minute to adjust to the near-complete darkness.

Her eyes were drawn to the windows, where the rose-colored curtains were drawn, without even a hint of light around their edges. If it were daytime, there would be sunlight, not to mention the curtains would be open –

She quickly sat upright, confusion giving way to understanding that it had to be after sundown. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the only faint light in the room came from the moon outside, through the one window where the curtains weren't pulled shut all the way.

She must have fallen asleep due to being sleep-deprived (…for some indiscernible reason) and the others had left her undisturbed to take a nap on the couch.

She stretched and had a brief moment to wonder why her hands were covered with fabric – then she realized she was wearing the sweatshirt she'd 'stolen' from Callen the previous night.

Well, maybe it was just hers now.

The thought temporarily distracted her, as she smiled to herself and patted the pockets, relieved to find her phone. She took it out and checked the time: 10:11 pm on Saturday night. She blinked at the display, willing it to make sense to her. How had she fallen asleep for a nap long enough to miss the entire day?

How come she didn't remember lying down in the first place?

How come she didn't remember _anything_ about her day…at all?

Her last memories were leaving Deeks' séance, going back to Callen's room where they'd briefly talked, and then going to bed.

What had she done when she'd gotten up that morning? What had she done _all day_? Was it possible she'd been drugged or something of the sort? Memories of two nights earlier, when she'd woken up thinking there was a stranger in her bed, came rushing back. She'd thought she was drugged then, too, and had been completely wrong about the actual events. As such, she was probably wrong this time, as well… (Or at least she _hoped_ there weren't people in this house willing to drug its occupants.)

The door to the hallway was open – it led directly to the foyer, but it was equally dark out there. She willed herself to remain calm, sure there had to be some explanation for losing so much time.

She moved over to the wall where the main light switches were for the room and noted they were all in the 'on' position already. Despite that, she tried them a few times; the room stayed dark and she barely stifled a sigh. It had probably been too much to hope.

There was no reason to worry, though. Everything was _fine_. Obviously, this was another part of the game, and while she could appreciate the lengths they went to in order to build tension, she was starting to grow irritated, and more than a bit resentful. She was well-aware her feelings probably stemmed from her difficult weekend so far, and from her steadily growing sense of unease with the house, but that didn't make her feel any better. Couldn't their team be left alone to investigate without constant gimmicks like this? At first, it had been intriguing, even fun at times, but by now she'd had more than enough.

Getting annoyed wouldn't help her at the moment, though. She had to figure out what was going on. If this was part of the game, where were her friends? Had they known she was exhausted, leaving her to sleep while they went off to take part in whatever Granger, Hetty, and the staff had set up for the night?

Or maybe it was the simplest explanation after all: a temporary power outage, and they'd gone (all of them…?) to try and restore power. Or perhaps it was late enough that they'd gone to bed with reassurance from the staff that electricity would be restored soon. And they hadn't wanted to wake her, so…

No matter how many ways she tried to spin it, one thing simply didn't make sense in her mind: Callen. He wouldn't have left her there alone. Maybe for a nap during the day, sure, but he wouldn't have left her downstairs when it was this late at night. Not when he knew she'd wake up alone in the dark, wondering what the hell was going on. And _especially_ not after what she'd gone through in the basement, and the nightmare she'd had of being murdered, and that weird-as-hell séance (she needed to reconsider ever participating in another training involving Deeks for the rest of her career at NCIS). Unlike the others, Callen knew the extent of her growing disquiet with Blackwell Manor. They were feelings that she could usually keep at bay when the sun was up, but at night…

No, he wouldn't have left her.

Alright, so maybe…he'd been with her, but gone to get a snack. Or to help one of their friends. Or any other plausible reason someone might do _anything_ in this house. And the power just happened to go out when he was gone. (She didn't really believe any of that, but it made marginally more sense than everyone leaving to go investigate something while conveniently forgetting about her.)

Of course, there could be something else going on, too. Something she simply hadn't thought of yet.

It could be something worse.

Something _wrong_.

She put her back to the wall – just to rest, _not_ because she was afraid of whatever else might be out there in the darkness – and tried to figure out what was bothering her. Aside from her missing friends. And the power being out. Oh, and the fact that she'd _apparently lost an entire day of her life_.

A dread was building in her, at the base of her neck, spreading outwards – there was more troubling her than the darkness, or her friends being absent, or the missing time.

She shut her eyes, because as paradoxical as it was, it blocked out the darkness in a way that helped, even if momentarily.

That was when she sensed it. Or rather…the _lack_ of it. The lack of anything and everything. _Stillness_. Everywhere around her.

The house was completely, totally, eerily still.

Blackwell Manor had certainly seemed off to her, at times, but it had never felt like it did right now. It had been unusually quiet before, but never this completely devoid of life. There had always been some sign, some _feeling_ of other people around, even when it was quiet. But now? A sinking, horrifying realization hit her in a flash: the house was completely empty. She was the _only person in it_. It wasn't a guess or a feeling or an assumption. She _knew_ it was true.

"Stop it," she whispered to herself, the sound of her own voice surprising her as she spoke into the silence. She was putting too much stock in feelings and emotions. She was worried about what might be going on, that was all, and everything else was a projection of an overactive mind trying to fill too much blank space.

She crossed the room, moving to the window with the curtains partially open, and held her breath as she peered outside – the moon seemed much brighter when it was shining upon the grounds. It was almost like when that light crossed the glass threshold of the windows, it severely dimmed.

From her vantage point here, at the front of the house, she could easily see the driveway and all their cars parked in it. She let out a sigh of relief – she hadn't _really_ thought they'd leave without her, but it was still reassuring to see them outside.

A faint rush of cool air came from Nell's right, which was the direction of the door – a weak draft maybe? She turned, catching a hint of a shadow passing by the open doorway. Her excitement that it was probably one of her friends caused her to cast aside any warning signs she might have otherwise felt as she moved forward quickly, glancing out into the foyer. Much to her disappointment, though, it was as empty out there as the room she'd been sleeping in. She called out a few times, asking if anyone could hear her, but got no response.

She took out her phone again, idly noting the battery was hovering at 20% (and, of course, she still had no service here). She turned on the flashlight app (she'd probably used that this weekend more than she had in the entire six months she'd had the phone so far). She went over to try the light switches in the foyer, already knowing what would happen when she tried them. Nothing. It confirmed what she'd already figured – the power had been turned off again.

She thought about going to the basement to check the circuits, but dismissed the idea almost as soon as she had it. There was no way she was going back down there ever again without anyone knowing her plan. (And even then, she'd probably have to be coerced.)

As she scanned the foyer, eyes lingering on the furniture that appeared as nothing more than dim outlines in the lack of light, Nell had the odd thought that she was in some kind of…otherworldly realm. Like she was seeing everything as a shadow of how it was supposed to be. Like she was seeing things from the _other side_. But the other side of _what_? That was the question.

She only knew that nothing about this house felt right. She'd had similar thoughts before, but tonight she felt it in an entirely new way.

She called her friends' names, increasingly louder, until she was yelling, but no one answered.

They had to be here somewhere, right? Maybe they'd gotten locked in one of the rooms again, like that first day in Blackwell's study.

Her tension eased significantly as she decided it was the only explanation that made sense. They were trapped somewhere and had to figure out the clues to escape (or whatever it was this time) and they were probably laughing that she was missing out on the entire thing even as she worried over nothing. Or perhaps they were waiting for her to come find and release them, annoyed that she was taking her time. Unfortunately, if she was going with that scenario, it also meant she had to search the house alone.

She listened intently for any hints on where she should look first. She wondered if she should go look for Davis in the guest house out back (assuming he was even there), but as she glanced up at the balcony that overlooked the foyer, she forgot about Davis entirely – because she swore she saw a black figure move away from the railing. She momentarily froze, unsure if it had been real or if her eyes were playing tricks on her in the poorly lit house. If it _was_ a person, it was probably a staff member keeping tabs on her. Or worse, _Granger_. The mere thought caused her anger to surge, and she let it fuel her, marching up the stairs with intent.

"I know you're there," she snapped, grateful for the annoyance solely because it smothered any rising anxiety and fear. "I _saw_ you. If this is part of the game, I'm honestly going to consider leaving tonight. It's not funny or amusing anymore. And especially not if you have my friends locked in some room."

Once she was on the second floor, she carefully turned in a circle, swinging her phone around in a wide arc of light, but there was no one there. (Of course, there were also hundreds of places to hide in this house, and that was only in the regular rooms – who knew how many secret doors and compartments there actually were?)

Up here, the windows near the front of the house let in a little bit of light, which helped somewhat, but not enough. The bedroom doors were all open, and she checked a few, just to make sure that no one had gone to bed. Each room was empty, though, further confirming her theory that they were all together…somewhere.

After she emerged from looking into Sam's room, her gaze skimmed over the hallway that stretched towards the back of the house, ending with an option to turn left or right. In that brief moment, she caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of her eye who appeared to be walking past the end of the hall. By the time she could lift her phone to shine the light down that way, whoever it was had disappeared, but she was determined not to let them get away again.

She jogged to the end of the hall and cursed when looking in both directions revealed nothing except more dark hallways. She was deep enough into the house now (and far enough from any outer walls) that there was no longer any light from windows or skylights to help guide her. The only light was from her phone and she automatically checked her battery level, swallowing when she saw it was down to 14%. Apparently, the flashlight ate up a lot of the battery.

She hadn't charged it last night because she'd been in Callen's room and she hadn't wanted to go get her charger. She'd figured she could charge it in the morning, which should have been _this_ morning (and now her thoughts had circled back to wondering what the hell had happened that could have caused her to lose an entire day?).

She couldn't go charge it because there was no power. It would make sense to turn off the flashlight feature to conserve battery, and Nell went so far as to hover her finger over the button on the screen before giving up and leaving it on. She couldn't turn it off and intentionally strand herself in the darkness, getting around only by feeling the walls. But wouldn't it be worse if the phone died on its own and her light was gone when she _needed_ it? Such as if she heard some unidentifiable sound and was left in the dark to imagine what might be causing it?

It occurred to Nell, not for the first time, that she might be in a real-life horror movie. And she was the character the viewers would yell at for acting idiotically by searching the house alone and unarmed – she could go back and get her gun from the lockbox in her room, but that only was the last place she _remembered_ it being. Who was to say it was still there when she couldn't remember anything that had happened today?

No, that was silly. Of course it was there. No one knew the code except her. So she should probably go back and –

Distant thudding, reminiscent of the night before, interrupted her thoughts. In fact, it was uncannily, _identically_ similar to the night before, when Deeks had been struggling to get the attic door open. She slowly followed the sound through the maze of halls knowing she was heading toward the staircase up to the third floor. Half of her hoped the sound would end and half hoped it wouldn't. It meant someone was up there, trying to get to the attic, right? Hopefully it was one of her friends. But if it wasn't…

She kept calling their names intermittently as she wove her way through the second floor, trying to pretend that her apprehension wasn't returning with every name she said that was greeted with silence.

The house still felt strange and it was hard to describe even to herself. It felt like she was there, but also not there. Like maybe she _herself_ wasn't even real. She tried to ignore those thoughts, telling herself they were bizarre enough that they weren't worth giving any credence to. But that was easier said than done when every step she took deeper into the house made her feel more alone.

Were these halls the same as when she'd walked them with Callen? Sometimes the path looked the same, but at other times, it was like she'd never seen _any_ of this. The paintings and tapestries on the walls, the doorways that led to rooms she wouldn't risk entering, the heaviness in the air that made each breath feel like a struggle –

Another thud, much louder, told her she was near the third floor stairs that they'd used the night before. Sure enough, she saw them as she rounded the next corner. She moved to the base of them, coming to a standstill and shining the light from her phone upwards. Just like last night, it couldn't reach all the way to the top and made the darkness up there seem all the worse, getting blacker the further up she looked. There were no windows on the third floor near the top of this particular staircase.

Nell checked her phone again, biting her lip when it showed 11%. She had to get moving or else she was going to risk being stranded in this house in near complete blackness and no quick way out except her memory. The mere _idea_ of it made her feel claustrophobic.

She had to shake herself out of it – the sounds she heard might well be someone trying to escape from the attic, or something equally similar. She wasn't going to run away when someone might need her. She steeled her resolve, making her way up the stairs and quickly turning at the top to check the halls, but they were equally dark and filled with the same uncanny silence as she'd heard since waking up – except for the thudding, that was.

"Where are you all?" she whispered, to no one. Somehow, she hoped for an answer while also praying that she didn't get one from someone (or something) she couldn't identify.

She heard nothing in response to her quiet plea and moved further down the hallway, tracing the path she'd gone with Callen the night before, to the door that led to the attic. When she finally got there, she paused mid-stride upon finding the door wide open, swaying slightly as if someone had just opened it and either walked away or gone up the attic stairs.

There went her theory that someone had been stuck up there, trying to get out.

Her phone was at 8% and it was dropping much faster than it ever had before. She didn't have much time to waste – she was going to quickly look up into the attic, then retrace her steps back downstairs and try to find some flashlights. She moved to the bottom of the stairs, shining the light up them and froze when she heard the faintest of footsteps moving across the attic floor above her head.

It must be the person she thought she'd seen earlier.

Once again she gathered her anger, loudly marching up the attic steps and announcing that she knew there was someone up there and she wasn't going to play whatever game this was anymore. For good measure, she demanded answers about where everyone was and why she was being led on this ridiculous chase through the house.

Her anger left her along with any warmth that she might have felt before, because the attic was ice cold – at _least_ twenty degrees colder than the night before. She pulled Callen's sweatshirt tighter around herself and had to make an actual effort to stop her teeth from chattering.

She was no longer able to pretend, even to herself, that she wasn't terrified. Her friends were missing and this house was wrong and the room was freezing and –

She slowly counted to ten. She wanted to turn around and go back downstairs, but her feet weren't moving like she told them to. She wanted someone, _anyone_ that she knew to appear. She wanted Callen, but right then she'd gladly take Davis appearing (she'd probably even hug him – or Granger, if it came to that). She wanted to get _out of this room_ , but it felt like, for some reason, she'd never be able to leave it again. It felt like she was going to die up here.

Her eyes were still obeying her commands, at least, and when she opened them she took in the room from the light of her phone ( _6% Nell, better hurry this along_ ). The area they'd used the Ouija board was completely different and all the candles Deeks had used were long gone. The couch she'd been using the night before was shoved into a nearby corner and the coffee table was gone. Instead, there was a cheap looking card table with a few folding chairs around it. A deck of cards was left scattered on the table, like people had left in the middle of a game without putting it away, and the stack of games from last night was stacked near the chairs. There were some beer and wine coolers scattered about, along with some empty plastic cups.

Had Deeks and Kensi changed things around before leaving last night? No, more likely some of the staff had been up here during the day to play a game, and had left before cleaning it. For their sakes, she hoped Davis didn't wander up here before they could finish cleaning up from their game.

The simple mundanity of the scene had distracted her long enough to allow her to get a grip on herself, but the fear slowly started creeping back in when her focus returned to the rest of the room. The lack of candles – and every other light source – only served to remind her how black the room was. There were a few windows, but nothing significant in terms of letting in any moonlight.

She returned her gaze to where she and Callen had been sitting the night before and suddenly, she missed him with such a fierce ache that she almost couldn't breathe.

 _What if she never saw him again?_

The thought was crazy, made absolutely no sense, and yet…she couldn't shake it.

"Why are you here?" someone asked quietly from behind her, and Nell spun around to see a young woman standing there, maybe five years younger than Nell herself. She was staring with such an intensity that Nell took a step backwards.

"Why are _you_ here?" Nell asked sharply, surprise and lingering fear turning to anger. She also felt some notion of relief at finally finding another person here when the house had seemed so incredibly barren up until now. "You must be the person I followed through the whole house. I didn't enjoy that, by the way, just like I didn't appreciate being ignored. Who are you? Do you work here?"

The woman didn't respond and Nell took a step towards her, immediately pausing when the younger woman shrank back.

"Sorry, I don't mean to come off as…angry," Nell said, trying desperately to seem non-threatening. The last thing she wanted was the only other person around to run away from her again. "I'm just upset because it's been a long night and then this game and my bosses and – it's a long story. Are you a friend of one of the staff?"

The girl laughed a little, but Nell could tell there was no humor in it. When she shined the light from her phone (3%) in the girl's direction, she took another step back. She was moving further into the attic, towards the far part that Nell hadn't ventured into the night before.

Nell wasn't sure what to do and her relief from a few moments earlier was quickly disappearing. "Have you seen my friends? I can't find any of them and I'm worried they're trapped somewhere in the house."

"They're not here," the girl said, and when Nell moved closer to her, she took another step backwards.

"What do you mean 'they're not here'? They have to be; their cars are outside." Nell knew she sounded desperate now, but she couldn't help it – this was the first contact she'd had with another person since she'd woken up and she really didn't want to lose it. "What's your name?"

The girl pursed her lips, clearly unwilling to answer the question, and Nell wondered if she was trespassing or had broken into the house, maybe to steal something. There were plenty of valuables people could sell and if she was friends with someone on the staff, she might know the code to the alarm system…which might be off tonight anyways with no power. Nell sighed as the pieces fell into place.

"You're not in any trouble from me," Nell promised. "I won't tell anyone I saw you. But if you've been here for a while, please tell me if you've run into anyone else?"

The girl laughed again, but this time it was more bitter than anything else. And she kept taking steps backwards; if she went much further, she'd be lost amidst the boxes and furnishings and other items that took up most of the back part of the attic.

"What's your name?" Nell decided to try another tactic. "I'm Nell and I'm here with a group of people for –"

"You shouldn't be here," the girl interrupted, moving more into the shadows cast by the things around her.

Nell revised her theory that maybe the girl was a petty thief or burglar; she certainly wasn't acting like one. Nell had come across her share of criminals over the years and they tended to do one of three things: attack, run, or try and con their way out of it. But this woman wasn't even offering an explanation (real or fake) for why she was there.

"I know this part of the house is supposed to be off-limits for the game," Nell said, infusing her voice with as much apology as she could (even though she definitely wasn't sorry). "I'm only looking for my friends."

To her surprise, the girl shifted slightly back into the circle of light from Nell's phone and stared at her with such a piercing gaze that Nell shuddered. "Why are you here?" she asked.

"Because my bosses decided we needed this weekend as a training exercise," Nell tried to explain.

"No," the other woman said, shaking her head. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't really have a choice."

"Why are you _here_?" the blonde repeated, with such intensity that Nell felt her heart sink to somewhere around her feet. "How did you _get_ here?"

"I…drove here."

The girl was already shaking her head, obviously unhappy with that answer and Nell could do nothing but shrug helplessly. She checked her phone. 1%.

"I don't know what you're asking me," Nell said, wavering between frustration and apprehension. Or some sickening mixture of both together. She wanted answers and she wanted her team back and she wanted Callen and –

"There's something wrong here," the other woman said, voice having dropped down to such a low whisper that Nell could barely hear her. And she also knew, somehow, exactly what she was talking about.

"I know," she told her. "I feel it, too. I don't understand what's going on." And she wished, so much, that she did.

The other woman was looking at her now as if she'd never seen her before. "You should go. You don't belong here." She took a step closer. "Neither do I."

"What do you mean?" Nell was well-aware her voice was steadily increasing and had to reign in any driftings toward hysteria. "Where is everyone? Please, if you'll just help me, we can go downstairs together. My phone's about to die and –"

Her phone switched off and the room was swallowed in darkness.

Nell instinctively froze, reminding herself to stay calm. And then she blinked and in that millisecond between when her eyes shut and when they opened again, she was somehow no longer in the attic. She was lying in bed – to be specific, Callen's bed – where she'd gone to sleep the night before. And he wasn't even in the room.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, naturally brightening everything it touched and it took her some time to understand what (must have) happened. It had to have been a dream, that entire thing, from waking up to searching the house to finding her way to the attic. Talking to that woman who'd never given a name or reason for being there.

The only problem was that it didn't feel like a dream. She wasn't groggy from suddenly waking up and the entire thing had felt so…real. But then again, her nightmare about being murdered had seemed real, as well, to the point that she'd been shaken enough to refuse sleeping in her own room.

She reached for her phone on the bedside table where she remembered placing it and checked the display: 10:11 am on Saturday morning. She vaguely registered that was the time from her dream, only twelve hours earlier.

She tried to shake off the vestiges of the dream and focused on being grateful that she hadn't lost a whole day in this house. Nor had she actually had the troubling experience of searching a version of this house that seemed like it was in an alternate universe.

Where was Callen? Had he gotten up for the day and not woken her on purpose?

 _What if he's not here?_

Normally, she would have laughed off the thought, but not after that…dream. She got up, grabbing Callen's sweatshirt from where she'd tossed it on the end of the bed, and threw it on as she left the room. There was no one in sight out in the halls and she tried to ignore her unease, jogging down the stairs and nearly crashing right into Hetty on the landing.

"Ah, my dear," their boss said, smiling warmly, "you're finally awake."

Nell didn't think she was quite able to stifle her sigh of relief. "I guess I slept in," she said, valiantly fighting back the urge she had to hug Hetty simply because her appearance was actual proof that the others hadn't left. And that Nell was awake. (Hopefully.)

"Sleeping in was no accident," Hetty informed her, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Mr. Callen might have informed the household that anyone who woke you this morning would answer to him."

"Really?" Nell couldn't help that she said it as she slowly began to smile.

"Really," Hetty said, raising an eyebrow. "Seems he has a soft spot for you. In case you weren't aware."

"Yeah…" Nell said slowly. "It's recently come to my attention that I should have seen it a long time ago." She went to walk by Hetty when the older woman stopped her again.

"He needs you. I hope you know that."

Nell slowly turned back. "I hope _you_ know that I need him just as much." When Hetty merely met her gaze in question, Nell added, "We're not together, you know. No matter how much everyone likes to joke about it."

Hetty seemed to consider that before asking a question that left Nell floored: "And why _aren't_ you together, Ms. Jones?"

Nell sifted through a dozen possible answers before realizing that none of them fit. "Are you saying we should be?" she asked carefully, since it seemed the safest possible response.

"I'm saying that after the things we've seen," Hetty took a step closer, "our team knows all about the futility of wasted time. It always seems there will be more of it until…" The older woman shrugged, indicating that one day time might run out without anyone realizing it was going to happen.

"Careful Hetty or I might think that you're trying to play matchmaker," Nell tried to joke, but the light accusation sounded more unsure than anything else, even to her own ears.

Hetty was shaking her head. "Why would I play matchmaker when it seems to me that a match has already been made?" She waited a moment for that to sink in, then added, "And though you know I love all of you, dearly, if there are any two people on our team that I consider as close as I would have…my own children, it's you and Agent Callen."

"Hetty…" Nell inexplicably felt herself holding back tears.

"I won't be around forever," Hetty said, a reminder she loved throwing around quite often. "It gives me great comfort to know that you'll have each other long after I'm gone. Because you will, my dear." She pressed a hand to Nell's arm. "You'll have each other."

Nell wasn't quite sure how her morning had taken such a strange turn – how everything could look the same when their _boss_ , of all people, was telling her to consider such a fundamental change to her life. "It doesn't matter to you that it's technically not allowed? That if anything ever did happen…it'd be against the rules?"

Hetty looked slightly surprised, then shook her head a little. "If Assistant Director Granger and I haven't used it against your teammates, what makes you think we'd use it against the two of you?"

Nell shrugged, somewhat at a loss. "Because he's a senior agent? Because he's technically the leader of our team? Because you could easily say that I'm a distraction or a liability or –"

"Nell," Hetty said, and there was something in her voice, something softer that Nell wasn't used to hearing from her that often. "You are none of those things. And if the two of you working together hasn't hurt anything by now, then it's never going to, no matter what happens in the future." Hetty was smiling now, like she knew something Nell didn't. "All I've ever seen is how that friendship helps you. Both of you."

Nell wasn't quite sure what to say to that. She didn't know if there was anything she _could_ say. Because really, there was a lot she should talk to Callen about first, and some part of her was still on edge after that dream; some part of her still wanted to see for herself that he was still here.

Hetty must have sensed it, too. "Downstairs, first room on the right when you enter the house."

Nell hesitated a half-second – that was the room she'd been sleeping in at the start of her dream. She belatedly nodded at Hetty in thanks and then made her way downstairs, crossing the foyer to enter the living room. Eric was sitting on one of the couches with his laptop, and Kensi was at the back of the room in an armchair, skimming through what looked like a notebook or journal of some sort. They both nodded at her in greeting, but said nothing, and Nell saw the reason why when her eyes were drawn to the couch opposite Eric – Callen was lying there with his eyes shut and they must not have wanted to disturb him. (It was the couch from her dream, the one where she'd woken up to find everyone gone.)

At the sight of him, the last of her tension disappeared, and she thought that maybe… Maybe that had been true for a long time, now.

There were papers resting on his chest – she recognized them as the packets they'd been given the day they arrived. He must have lost interest in them and decided to take a nap, even though it was early in the morning for that, and she suddenly realized that he was probably as exhausted this weekend as she was. She'd been so caught up in her own exhaustion that she hadn't thought about how he got less sleep than any of them, in general. And this weekend was even worse. She was usually the one who noticed those things, especially when it came to him, and fought off the guilt at having missed it, this time around. Somehow.

(Could she blame the house for it? Well, she blamed it for everything else this weekend, didn't she?)

She didn't want to wake him, but found herself taking a few steps toward the couch anyways. She knew to their friends, to most people, he seemed like the last person in the world to need someone looking out for him. But the thing was…he did. He could operate with such a frightening intensity that the rest of the world sometimes fell away, for him. Not when it came to others, but when it came to _himself_. He needed someone there, if not to take care of him, then to at least remind him to take care of himself as much as he took care of everyone else.

She knew she was often that person for him. And maybe she wanted to _always_ be that person for him, through everything. At work and outside of it, now and in the future, for better or worse –

No. _No_. Despite Hetty and Granger's decision to make them married in the game, she could not possibly be thinking along those lines. Those lines of…forever.

She stared at him, but she wasn't really seeing _him_. She was seeing everything that comprised their friendship, the years that laid behind them. The life-changing things they'd gone through together, usually with the rest of the team. The small moments with just the two of them that no one else knew about. _Everything_.

It was like the past couple days in this house had crystallized things in her mind.

Like his reaction when he'd learned their characters were married to each other. He hadn't been irritated or upset, he'd mostly been amused – the only annoyance came from knowing their friends would use it as another reason to harass them.

And speaking of those friends, she considered the jokes they made that didn't much feel like jokes anymore, not to mention how Callen reacted, even occasionally playing along.

She thought about how it had become a regular thing for her and Callen to tease each other about their supposed secret relationship. How he'd said that after being 'married' to her, no one else would ever compare. Then there was last night, when Deeks had as much as said he could marry them. Callen had declared that he'd be crazy to let Deeks marry him to anyone, but his emphasis hadn't been on marriage itself, it had been on the part about Deeks wanting to officiate it.

She thought about their behavior, in general – that they clearly preferred to spend time with each other and didn't bother hiding it. She liked being close to him and he seemed to feel the same.

 _Where are you right now, Nell?_ he'd asked. Because he was the same as he'd always been, surrounded by a dozen walls, but she was already inside. With him. He'd told her as much. He'd _been_ telling her as much, not just this weekend, but for a long time now. This weekend was just the most obvious it had ever been because they were spending four days together in a row and maybe he was just tired, tired of pretending, tired of acting like they weren't as important to each other as they were.

What was it he'd said, when she'd been joking that she felt sorry for his _real_ future wife? _Remember this, Nell Jones_. And it wasn't just the words, but the way he'd said it, as if he knew something she didn't.

 _As if she_ _might have unknowingly been referring to herself_.

Because she loved him, so much, and had known that for years. And it had always been indefinably different than the way she loved the others, but it had never been _this_. At some point, without noticing, she had somehow tipped over that line of _being_ _in love_.

And if she was putting everything together instead of writing it off or making excuses or thinking he wasn't serious with the things he said, then…

She thought there was a pretty good chance he might be in love with her, too.

"Morning, Nell," Callen said, without opening his eyes, and somehow, _somehow_ , Nell was able to snap out of her mild shock at what she'd just consciously realized only seconds before.

"What – how –" she sputtered, eyes meeting Kensi's across the room as the other woman mouthed 'black ops' at her.

When she looked back at Callen, he was watching her. "I know what it sounds like when you walk," he explained, pointing at the wooden floorboards she'd just moved across.

"They barely creaked," she protested, " _and_ I'm only wearing socks! How could you possibly… I don't know whether that's impressive or creepy."

"Oh, it's _definitely_ creepy," Eric supplied, pausing in whatever he was typing at his laptop. "I expect nothing less from Callen by now. Especially when it comes to you."

Callen sat up, setting the packet aside, and motioned for Nell to sit next to him. She obliged without hesitation, pulling her legs up onto the couch under her. He sent her an assessing gaze and she remembered that she'd been in such a rush to find him and dispel the last vestiges of her dream that she hadn't even changed out of her pajamas yet. And, of course, she was wearing his sweatshirt again.

He pulled at one of the too-long sleeves. "Guess that's yours now," he offered, uncannily echoing what she'd thought when she'd been wearing it in her dream.

"At least for the rest of the weekend," she said, smiling a little. "If you don't mind."

"I never mind when it comes to you," he said softly, and she wondered if he was purposely echoing Eric's words from a minute before.

"Thanks for…" she wasn't quite sure how to phrase it, "…threatening everyone into leaving me alone this morning? Six hours of sleep might be less than I usually get – and I'm probably going to sleep for half a day when we get home – but it's much better than what I'd been getting. And I feel slightly more human now, so… I owe you."

"You're welcome and you owe me nothing," he said lightly. "I'm good at threatening people; it's what I do best."

"It is _not_ what you do best," she said with such quiet vehemence that he seemed taken aback.

"It was more selfish than anything else," he tried to claim, though she saw right through him. "I couldn't deal with another day of your misery making _me_ miserable."

"Is that right?" she asked carefully, "because if I didn't know better, I'd have thought you did it to ensure you had an advantage over me today. Since we both know I'm your greatest threat when it comes to solving this mystery."

"Thanks for your faith in the rest of us," Eric muttered dryly, from across the way.

Nell sent him an apologetic glance, but he was looking at his laptop, so it was lost on him.

"You could have stayed in bed," she told Callen. "You didn't have to come down here just to sleep."

"How else could I have intimidated the others today? They had to know I was working on solving this fake murder. Kind of hard to do if I don't leave my bedroom."

"Trust us, no one thought you were working anyways," Eric countered snarkily.

"I was working through things…quietly," Callen protested. "You know, in my head. With my eyes shut." Off of Kensi's and Eric's obvious skepticism, he scowled. "Whatever. I don't have to answer to either of you."

"You were sleeping," Kensi goaded, and simply smiled at Callen when he tried to stare her down.

The conversation deteriorated into an argument over how much Callen could have possibly gotten done that morning – he maintained he could work even _while asleep_ as his mind continuously processed information – and Nell stopped paying attention, merely appreciating that they were there with her and not missing. Or gone.

"What is it?" Callen asked, and she realized he must have been studying her. He must have seen everything on her face she hadn't said.

She glanced over to find Kensi and Eric had gone back to whatever they were doing before she'd walked in. She moved a few inches to the side, until her arm was barely touching Callen's, taking a moment to be grateful that he was there. That he was _him_.

She lowered her voice, trying not to distract the others, and told Callen about her dream, along with how uneasy it had made her (like she needed to be anymore uneasy in this place). She left out the part about how she'd woken up with the irrational fear that everyone might actually be gone.

Of course…he saw it anyways.

"Nell," he said slowly, "you know that we would never do that to you."

"Not even if there was an emergency?" she tried to joke, though it didn't sound like much of one. "Some new catastrophe you had to avert?"

"Yeah, that does happen to us a lot, doesn't it?" he acknowledged with a slight smile. "I'd at least tell you about it, though. And there's a 98% chance I'd be dragging you along with me because, if you haven't noticed, most of what we do isn't possible without you."

She leaned back on the couch, letting his promises reassure her. Again, she already knew it, but hearing him say it allowed her to relax in a way she hadn't been able to, otherwise. "Sorry that I didn't notice how tired you were," she apologized. "You should have slept in, too. Then maybe you wouldn't have felt like you had to take a nap at 10 in the morning." When he said nothing, she considered something else. "Don't tell me you got up early just so you could warn everyone not to wake me."

"Okay." He shrugged. "I won't tell you that."

"I love that it's your natural inclination to help, but you don't have to do it at the expense of yourself," she tried to scold him, even as she knew it would have almost no effect.

"Trust me, it's no hardship to make sure you're okay." Before she could respond to that, he added, "Besides, I got a lot done this morning."

She tried not to laugh. "You got a lot done while…taking a nap."

"I wasn't sleeping," he insisted. "Just for that, I'm not telling you about the clues I put together today."

"That's not fair! You can't keep them from me."

"You're right, I can't. I'll tell you later," he nodded toward their friends, "when Eric and Kensi aren't around to pretend like they're not listening to us."

"I'm not –" Kensi realized her mistake too late. "Damn it."

"Always gets at least one of you," Callen said, smirking at her, and then turned back to Nell. "What's the plan for today?"

"I don't actually have one, aside from going back up to the attic. Didn't you get a strange vibe up there last night?"

"I did," he admitted, "but I just chalked it up to, you know…Deeks."

"And I'd like to thank you all for not waking me to participate in that nightmare," Eric said, and Nell could hear the sincere gratitude in his voice.

"Beware, if Deeks does anything else even half as strange for the rest of the weekend that 'requires' my presence, you're taking my place," Callen warned him, as Eric shook his head in silent indication that he refused.

"I want to look around the attic in the daytime," Nell told Callen. She was beginning to feel like their training weekend was less important than finding out what happened to the house's missing staff member. And she was starting to wonder if there wasn't more to her odd dream – she might not put much stock in ghosts (though that opinion might rapidly be changing), but she at least believed in her subconscious and the fact that it might be trying to tell her something.

"You have fun in the attic," Callen was saying. "I'm going to…" he trailed off when he saw her watching him expectantly. "Let me guess – I'm going to be searching the attic, aren't I?"

"You're good at guessing," she grinned, happy not only that he'd suggested it, but also that it would give her a chance to talk to him alone – _really_ alone. (Assuming no spirits were hanging around up there today.)

No matter how much she thought he might be with her in this, there was no way to ever know unless she asked him. The evidence was certainly in her favor when it came to what he felt for her, but the fact remained that he'd never attempted to do anything about it. Well, anything _overt_ , at least. So there was always a chance she could be wrong. That maybe she was mistaking the love of a friend as something romantic. That maybe their friends really _were_ always joking, or only saw what they wanted to see. There was even the possibility that he might care for her, but had decided long ago it wasn't something he ever wanted to pursue. Because of their jobs, or the risk of affecting their friendship, or maybe he just didn't want to make that kind of commitment to anyone.

She stopped that line of thinking, knowing if she kept it up she might easily talk herself out of saying anything to him. And she couldn't do that now, because if there was a chance, any chance, that they could have each other…

She had to take that risk.

 **XXXXXX**


End file.
